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GIFT  OF 
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GOOD  AMERICANS 


SHE  BESTOWED  A  NOD   AND   SMILE   UPON   PETER  DAVENANT. 


GOOD   AMERICANS 


BY 


MRS.  BURTON   HARRISON 

AUTHOR  OF   "AN  ERRANT   WOOING,"  "  SWEET  BELLS  OUT 
OF   TUNE,"   "A  BACHELOR  MAID,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 
THE  CENTURY  CO. 

1898 


Copyright,  1897,  1898,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 


~ 


GIFT  OF 

^-A  WAX 


THE  DEVINNE  PRESS. 


To 

MY  TEOOPEK 


MS1931 


GOOD  AMERICANS 


GOOD  AMERICANS 


HEN  we  may  depend  upon  you  for  the 
15th?"  said  Mrs.  Grantham,  scarcely 
believing  her  good  luck. 

"So  good  of  you  to  let  me  come," 
suavely  answered  her  school-friend  of 
former  days— known  to  the  world  of 
fashion,  of  whom  she  was  the  starry  leader,  and  to  the 
other  world  in  our  broad  continent  that  comforts  its 
uninteresting  existence  by  reading  about  the  doings  of 
a  few  New-Yorkers,  as  Mrs.  Jack  Stanley. 

"  I  want  to  try  to  get  together  for  you  some  really 
clever,  cultivated  people,"  went  on  Mrs.  Grantham,  a 
flush  of  excitement  mounting  to  her  cheeks. 

"  Do,  dear ;  I  love  novelty,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Stanley. 
"  Katrina,  you  have  no  idea  how  dull  it  is,  night  after 
night,  meeting  the  same  old  set !  "When  we  are  stand 
ing  around,  waiting  for  dinner  to  be  announced,  I  some 
times  wonder  which  of  the  men  is  going  to  pounce  on 
me,  and  there  's  not  an  emotion  in  my  being  for  one 
more  than  another.  But  what  is  to  be  done  ?  It  is 
i  1 


2  GOOD  AMERICANS 

our  fate.  You  know  We  are  now  building  dining- 
rooms  that  will  just  hold  Us." 

Mrs.  Grantham  tried  to  laugh,  but  in  her  heart  re 
sented  the  .magnificent  assumption.  For  years  Hen 
rietta  Stanls^  liad  been  the  fly  in  her  ointment.  The 
ambitious;  wif<'  of  a  hard-working  lawyer  recently  ele 
vated  'to  judicial  honors,  Mrs.  Grantham,  with  her 
pleasant  home  and  nice  little  family,  should  by  rights 
have  been  contented  to  keep  to  her  own  busy,  well-filled 
orbit,  without  coveting  the  periphery  in  which  circled 
golden  butterflies  engendered  by  the  luxury  of  modern 
New  York. 

But  although  it  would  have  been  to  her  a  dreadful 
trial  to  live  Etta's  life,  she  did  not  care  to  think  there 
was  in  her  community  any  life  she  might  not  lead. 
Besides,  Etta  was  only  an  accident  of  fortune.  What 
had  occasioned  her,  nobody  asked ;  what  inspired  her 
distinguished  exclusiveness,  nobody  knew;  for  her 
rather  dull  personality  it  was  certain  nobody  cared. 

The  real  reason  of  this  attempt  of  Mrs.  Grantham's 
to  rake  the  coals  from  the  ashes  of  her  old  friendship 
was  a  pretty  little  Miss  Grantham,  who  was  to  swell 
the  ranks  of  next  season's  debutantes.  Everybody 
knows  that  a  girl's  coming  out  alters  her  family's 
mode  of  life  and  plans.  If  little  Katty— as  her  father 
inelegantly  persisted  in  calling  their  domestic  treasure 
—had  to  be  in  society,  it  must  be  in  the  best  there  was, 
said  her  mama.  And  if  Etta  Stanley  chose  to  make 
the  effort,  how  much  she  might  accomplish  for  Katty 
by  a  mere  wave  of  her  wand ! 

Thus,  after  a  considerable  interval  of  tepid  half- 
intercourse  with  her  quondam  intimate,  Mrs.  Grantham, 


GOOD  AMERICANS  3 

putting  her  pride  in  her  pocket,  had  gone  that  after 
noon  to  call  at  the  stately  dwelling  in  which  Mr.  Stan 
ley  had  enshrined  the  somewhat  faded  charms  of  his 
lady.  She  had  found  Etta  at  home  to  visitors,  a  fact 
that  gave  Katrina  courage  to  be  cordial.  The  hostess 
was  ensconced  in  a  gilt  Louis  XV  chair  with  cream- 
satin  cushions,  in  a  salon  like  an  outgrowth  of 
Vudeen's  emporium  in  Fifth  Avenue  for  the  sale  of 
effects  from  foreign  palaces. 

Mrs.  Grantham,  who  had  been  saving  for  some 
months  out  of  her  housekeeping  money  in  order  to 
purchase  for  her  drawing-room  a  Morris  arm-chair 
covered  in  flowery  velveteen,  had  felt  depressed  at  the 
outset  by  this  trifling  circumstance. 

But  an  agreeable  surprise  awaited  her.  Etta  had 
been  recently  attending  a  course  of  lectures  on  ethical 
culture,  alternating  in  the  ball-rooms  of  her  set.  Per 
haps  this  contributed  to  her  unwonted  mood  of  agree 
able  acquiescence.  Perhaps  she  had  absolutely  nothing 
else  to  think  about.  In  any  case,  she  had  tried  the  ex 
periment  of  being  gracious  with  an  old  friend.  She 
had  inquired  for  Katrina's  husband,  daughter,  and 
boys  at  school.  She  had  offered  one  or  two  small 
anecdotes  about  her  own  absent  children,  and  made 
some  allusion  to  past  days.  And  last  of  all,  when 
Katrina,  emboldened  by  the  thaw  in  a  long-frozen 
atmosphere,  had  asked  her  to  dinner  on  the  15th,  Etta 
had  actually  said  yes. 

The  moment  after,  she  had  been  overtaken  by  appre 
hension  lest  her  acceptance  was  a  mistake. 

"  They  will  be  highly  respectable  frumps,"  she  had 
said  within  herself.  "  I  wish  Jack  were  not  going  off 


4  GOOD  AMERICANS 

in  the  yacht  for  his  West  India  cruise  that  day.  He 
always  knows  what  those  people  talk  about." 

"  So  dear  of  you  to  want  me,"  she  had  murmured, 
nevertheless.  "And  you  are  going  to  get  me  some 
body  very  nice  ? " 

"I  shall  have  Agatha  Carnifex,  to  begin  with,"  said 
Mrs.  G-rantham. 

Miss  Carnifex,  viewed  from  every  point,  was  unim 
peachable.  Family,  fortune,  cleverness,  good  looks, 
position — all  were  Agatha's. 

"Agatha?  Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Stanley,  with  an 
amused  little  curl  of  the  lip.  "  Her  father,  poor  dear, 
is  quite  one  of  my  pals.  He  says  I  rest  him  after  his 
daughter's  pyrotechnics  of  reform  of  the  human  race." 

"  Mr.  Carnifex  will  certainly  come.  He  is  a  great 
friend  of  my  husband's,"  went  on  Katrina,  with  anima 
tion.  "  Besides,  I  want  Agatha  as  well  as  you  to  meet 
my  new  young  man." 

Only  the  faintest  flutter  of  interest  stirred  Mrs. 
Stanley's  exterior. 

"  And  who,  pray,  is  he  ? " 

The  answer  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  an 
other  visitor— a  tall,  slim,  exquisitely  pretty  girl  re 
sembling  a  French  pastel,  and  dressed  in  a  costume 
and  hat  of  black  velvet  picked  out  with  Russian  sables, 
of  which  quiet  elegance  of  attire  Katrina  Grantham 
made  note  before  she  had  heard  the  wearer's  name. 

"  Katty  must  have  something  like  that  next  winter. 
The  really  smart  people  never  overdress,"  she  was 
inwardly  saying,  when  Mrs.  Stanley,  in  a  sort  of  be 
grudging  way,  introduced  to  her  "my  friend,  Miss 
Sybil  Gwynne." 


GOOD  AMERICANS  6 

"  Then  I  am  not  too  late  to  make  tea  for  you,  dear 
est  ? "  said  Miss  Gwyime  to  her  hostess,  tenderly. 

"  No,  darling ;  Barnes  is  just  fetching  it,"  answered 
Etta,  with  an  effusion  entirely  lacking  in  her  talk  with 
Mrs.  Grantham. 

"I  had  to  drop  in  at  Tilly's  to  hear  her  Russian 
violinist,  or  she  7d  have  never  forgiven  me,"  went  on 
the  girl.  "  And  after  the  last  piece — to  which  nobody 
listened,  they  were  in  such  a  hurry  to  talk  over  Char 
ley's  engagement  with  Ethel— I  beg  your  pardon,"  she 
interrupted  herself,  turning  to  the  outsider.  "This 
must  seem  very  dull  to  you.  I  am  sure  I  caught  a 
much  pleasanter  sound  when  I  came  in.  Were  not 
you  talking  about  some  entirely  new  young  man  * " 

"  Mrs.  Grantham  was  telling  me  of  that  rara  avis? 
said  Etta,  yawning  a  very  little.  "  Pray  go  on,  Katrina, 
and  tell  Sybil,  too." 

"  It  was  only  that  I  hoped  Etta  might  fancy  meeting 
Peter  Davenant,"  said  Mrs.  Grantham,  deliberately, 
and  with  conscious  pride  in  enunciating  a  name  just 
now  so  interesting  to  the  public. 

But  there  was  no  responsive  intelligence  in  the  face 
of  either  hearer. 

"Surely  you  have  seen  in  the  papers  lately,"  she 
hurried  on,  "  of  the  brilliant  work  he  did  in  bringing 
about  the  conviction  of  Judge  McStephen  in  the  trial 
of  his  impeachment  ? " 

"  We  have  papers,"  admitted  the  hostess,  languidly ; 
"  but  Jack  always  keeps  them  in  the  smoking-room." 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  think  us  very  uninformed," 
added  Miss  Gwynne,  more  tactfully ;  "  but  really  we 
never  heard  of  Judge  McStephen." 


6  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"  I  forget  that  everybody  is  not  as  much  at  home  in 
such  matters  as  I  must  be,"  answered  Katrina,  with 
dignity.  "And  perhaps  I  was  influenced  by  Agatha 
Carnifex  having  told  me  there  was  no  one  in  town  she 
wanted  so  much  to  meet  as  Davenant." 

"Really?"  said  Etta,  changing  her  right  foot  for 
the  left  upon  her  gilded  footstool. 

"  He  is  a  type  of  the  best  latter-day  American,  and 
looks  like  an  1840  'portrait  of  a  gentleman/  with 
manners  to  match— old-fashioned  and  courtly— stands 
with  his  hat  off  in  the  street  while  talking  to  women 
—Sir  Charles  Grandison,  you  know— thinks  all  women 
are  goddesses,  or  ought  to  be." 

"Decidedly  not  du  monde,  then,"  interrupted  the 
hostess,  rearranging  some  roses  that  leaned  toward 
her  in  a  tall  emerald-glass  vase. 

"I  am  afraid  not  of  your  world,"  said  Katrina. 
"  For  years  he  plodded  along  in  a  subordinate  position 
here,  before  an  opportunity  came  to  prove  himself. 
Now,  the  wise  men  say,  it  7s  only  a  question  of  time 
before  he  gets  to  the  very  top  of  the  ladder.  When 
he  began,  a  stranger  from  a  dead  Southern  town  where 
he  had  been  admitted  to  practice,  he  was  poor  as  a 
church-mouse,  and  knew  nobody.  Now,  though  still 
poor,  he  is  the  most  talked  of  among  the  youngsters 
of  his  profession." 

"And  a  youngster  means—?"  asked  Sybil,  archly. 

"A  rising  young  lawyer  till  he  is  sixty,  and  after 
that  a  leader  of  the  bar,"  answered  Mrs.  Grantham, 
smiling.  "  Davenant  is  about  thirty  years  old,  but  in 
ignorance  of  worldly  things ;  just  a  big,  trustful,  affec 
tionate,  headstrong,  ardent  boy.  I  'm  sure  the  women 


GOOD  AMERICANS  7 

of  society  who  would  care  to  experiment  on  him  would 
find  him  virgin  soil." 

The  phrase,  taking  hold  of  Mrs.  Stanley,  caused  her 
to  sit  up  and  forward,  on  her  chair  of  state.  The 
servants,  coming  in  to  light  lamps,  revealed  her  por 
celain-tinted  face  with  the  near-sighted  pale-blue  eyes, 
under  a  mass  of  craped  blonde  hair,  kindled  with  a 
faint  animation. 

"  And  I  am  to  meet  this  paragon  at  dinner  ? "  she 
said.  "  Don't  fail  to  put  him  on  one  side  of  me,  Ka- 
trina.  And  why  can't  you  be  awfully  nice,  and  give 
poor  Sybil,  too,  a  chance  at  Mr.  Davenant  ? " 

"  I  shall  be  only  too  happy  to  have  Miss  Gwynne," 
said  Mrs.  Grantham,  promptly,  although  at  the  mo 
ment  she  reflected  that  this  would  cut  off  one  of  the 
"  duty  "  dames  whom  she  had  meant  to  work  in  on  the 
occasion  of  entertaining  Mrs.  Stanley.  After  all,  Miss 
G wynne  was  so  pretty,  so  fine  of  grain,  so  perfect 
a  product  of  high  civilization,  it  would  always  be  a 
pleasure  to  have  had  her. 

Sybil  protested,  but  was  overcome  by  Etta's  rather 
too  frank  solicitations. 

"Yes,  dearest,  you  must  go ;  I  will  take  no  denial; 
it  will  make  it  so  much  more— I  mean  I  will  call  for 
you,  and  we  can  talk  in  the  carriage  coming  home. 
Here  is  the  tea  at  last;  pray,  Katrina,  don't  go  till 
you  have  had  some.  And  here  come  more  people ;  I 
hope  among  them  you  may  find  somebody  worth  talk 
ing  to." 

That  was  an  attractive  gathering  in  the  spacious 
drawing-room  with  broad  windows  looking  over  into 
the  bare  boughs  and  wintry  sage-green  reaches  of  turf 


8  GOOD  AMERICANS 

of  the  park  opposite.  The  people  composing  it,  in 
cluding  two  or  three  well-authenticated  foreigners, 
were  easy,  low-toned,  well-bred,  well-dressed  without 
ostentation.  In  that  each  seemed  to  be  in  a  place 
recognized  by  the  others,  it  was  in  some  respects  the 
ideal  society.  Mrs.  Grantham,  who  fell  into  conver 
sation  with  a  lively  widow,  Mrs.  Arden,  lingered  on 
to  hear  what  this  lady  had  to  say  about  Mrs.  Stanley's 
delightful  tea-maker,  Miss  Gwynne. 

"Sybil  is  almost  new  to  New  York,  last  season 
being  her  first  here.  A  niece  of  Mrs.  St.  Clair  Lewiston, 
you  know,  with  whom  she  lives.  Educated  altogether 
abroad,  and  has  had  unusual  opportunities  there,  hav 
ing  been  presented  at  half  the  courts  of  Europe.  If 
poor  Mrs.  Gwynne  had  n't  died  in  harness,  so  to  speak, 
running  around  with  her  daughter  to  all  the  smart 
resorts  of  the  Continent  year  after  year,  Sybil  might 
never  have  known  America.  But  she  was  an  only 
child,  and  after  her  mother's  death  Mrs.  Lewiston 
went  out,  and  in  time  brought  her  back.  What  was 
it  Paul  Bourget  called  Sybil  ?  The  fine*  fleur  of  Ameri 
can  aristocracy,  I  think,  or  some  such  phrase,  that 
has  stuck  by  her.  She  is  adorably  pretty  and  dainty  j 
don't  you  think  so  ?  Rather  too  quiet,  perhaps ;  but 
such  graceful  manners.  As  soon  as  Etta  Stanley  saw 
Sybil,  of  course  she  appropriated  her  for  a  bosom 
friend,  and  now  they  are  inseparable.  Etta  finds 
something  cliic  in  a  crony  not  exactly  a  foreigner, 
but  who  might  as  well  be  one  for  all  she  under 
stands  of  her  own  country.  But,  then,  who  can  pre 
dict  what  may  happen!  With  this  Revolutionary- 
Sons  of  the  Cincinnati-Colonial  Dames  business  all 


GOOD  AMERICANS  9 

over  the  place,  patriotism  may  be  'in'  again  next 
year." 

"  My  dear  lady,  what  heretical  sentiments  !  "  said  a 
smug,  merry-faced  gentleman  of  middle  age,  who  now 
returned  to  them  after  setting  down  their  tea-cups. 
"  I  'in  sure  I  bank  upon  my  nationality  abroad— in 
England  especially,  where  we  're  much  more  in  vogue 
when  a  trifle  startling,  or  at  least  dialectic.  I  heard, 
by  the  way,  a  kind  lady,  who  had  never  dreamed  of 
doing  such  a  thing  at  home,  called  upon  to  read  aloud 
one  of  Miss  Wilkins's  short  stories,  in  a  country-house 
party,  last  summer ;  and  the  mess  she  made  of  it  was 
astonishing.  People  sat  around  shading  their  eyes 
with  their  hands,  solemn  as  owls  !  And  you  know  our 
Lady  Greenwich  has  written  home  to  her  friends,  for 
heaven's  sake  to  send  her  out  a  lot  of  outrageously 
slangy  Americanisms  to  learn  by  heart,  or  she  '11  never 
be  a  l  go.' " 

"  I  can  believe  it,"  said  Mrs.  Grantkam,  "  after  just 
reading  an  English  story  by ,  with  incidental  Ameri 
cans  of  unique  vulgarity  to  represent  our  best  society." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Mr.  Cleve,  comfortably.  "  The 
author  is  young,  and  will  live  to  know  better.  Be 
sides,  I  forgive  anybody  who  entertains  me  decently 
in  these  days.  And,  with  all  their  talk  in  the  air,  they  're 
awfully  nice  to  us,  individually,  over  there.  But  speak 
ing  of  people  being  put  under  contribution  to  entertain 
each  other  in  English  homes,  I  have  at  last  found  my 
metier.  I  tried  it  modestly  last  year,  and  was  quite  a 
blazing  success  as  a  teller  of  American  anecdotes  racy 
of  the  soil.  Since  then  I  've  subscribed  to  one  of  those 
newspaper-clipping  chaps,  and  he  sends  me  a  hundred 


10  GOOD  AMERICANS 

assorted  jokes  for  five  dollars.  I  pick  out  the  best, 
and  study  them  while  I  'm  shaving.  Last  night  a 
Western  fellow  who  dined  with  me  at  the  club  gave 
me  three  brand-new  ones.  Like  to  hear  them  ? 

"Number  1.  Eastern  man  at  a  Western  hotel  (at 
tended  at  table  by  a  '  waitress '  too  superior  to  waste 
words  upon  a  mere  hungry  customer). 

"  Man :  l  I  '11  take  some  berry-pie,  please.' 

"  Waitress  (coldly  and  rapidly) :  l  Straw,  ras',  huckle, 
or  goose  1 ' 

11  Number  2.  Traveler  from  frontier  district,  strik 
ing  hotel  where  advanced  fashions  have  obtained, 
observes,  with  an  expression  of  pleased  surprise,  the 
finger-bowl  set  before  him  at  the  close  of  his  meal. 

"  *  What 's  this  for,  waiter  V 

"  i  To  wash  your  hands,  sir/ 

"  1 1  wish  I  'd  a-know'd  it  'fore  I  began  my  dinner.' 

"And  Number  3.  You  will  imagine  yourself  in  a 
railroad  hostelry  of  the  lightning-change  variety, 
where  a  deliberate  diner  has  just  taken  his  seat  at 
table,  and  is  approached  by  the  breathless  waiter. 

"  l  Will  you  have  bean-soup  ? ' 

"  <  Well,  let  me  see.     I  think  I  '11-' 

"  '  Dinner  's  over ! ' " 

It  was  impossible  to  resist  Mr.  Cleve's  chuckling 
enjoyment  of  his  own  fun.  The  wrinkles  around  his 
eyes  became  puckered  so  comically,  his  laugh  rolled 
out  so  like  mellow  wine  from  an  ancient  bottle,  his 
hearers  could  but  join  in  the  chorus.  Having  made 
his  little  coup,  the  amiable  gentleman  waggled  off  to 
another  coterie,  where  he  was  heard  repeating  the 
same  jokes. 


GOOD  AMERICANS  11 

"  I  will  say  for  the  old  beau  that  he  has  a  different 
set  every  time,  and  that  they  are  sometimes  new,"  re 
marked  Mrs.  Grantham's  companion.  "  Also,  that  his 
dinners  of  eight  or  ten  are  feasts  to  be  remembered 
for  substantial  excellence.  We  were  talking  about—?  " 

"  Sybil  G wynne— and  the  fact  that  she  is  a  foreign- 
bred  American.  Is  she  happy  here?"  asked  Mrs. 
Grantham,  who  had  a  way  of  her  own  of  coming  to 
the  point. 

"  Happy  !  Who  would  n't  be  who  is  so  tremendously 
petted  and  extolled  as  she  happens  to  be  just  now? 
Etta  Stanley  has  put  the  finishing  touch  upon  her 
vogue.  And  although  Sybil's  mother  left  her  but  a 
small  income,  her  aunt  is  rich  and  lavish,  and  the  girl 
is  like  a  princess  in  a  fairy-tale,  so  far  as  knowing 
about  real  life." 

"She  has  no  love-affair  on?" 

"  I  think  not.  A  lot  of  young  fellows  run  after  her ; 
but  they  do  it  mechanically,  like  little  figures  in  a 
street  puppet-box,  that  jump  the  same  way  at  the 
same  moment.  Her  life  is  spent  in  the  most  conven 
tional  round  one  can  imagine.  But  she  is  not  dull  or 
vapid.  On  the  contrary,  I  think  Sybil  has  excellent 
ability,  some  sense  of  humor,  and  a  sweet  temper. 
All  I  have  to  complain  of  is  that  she  is  unreal,  out  of 
place  in  her  present  setting— like  a  charming  actress 
who  has  come  to  fill  a  brief  engagement  upon  our 
boards  before  returning  to  the  place  where  she  was 
trained.  Dear  me !  Six  o'clock  ?  I  must  fly.  So 
nice  to  have  seen  you  again.  Next  year,  when  you  've 
a  daughter  to  bring  out,  you  '11  be  obliged  to  be  in  the 
treadmill  like  the  rest  of  us.  Last  night  I  sat  on  a 


12  GOOD  AMERICANS 

dais  watching  my  two  girls  spin  until  2  :  30  A.  M.  To 
night  we  have  a  large  dinner  at  home,  the  opera,  and 
the  Tuesday  dance.  And  I  have  already  been  to-day 
to  the  dentist  with  Hal  to  have  his  bad  tooth  out,  and 
after  that  to  hear  a  string  quartet  concert,  before  com 
ing  here.  You  do  look  fresh,  Katrina!  But  only 
wait.  This  time  next  year  peep  in  the  glass,  and  see 
if  you  find  the  same  face  smiling  back  at  you  !  Good- 
by,  good-by." 

When  Mrs.  Grantham  went  down  the  broad  steps  to 
let  Mrs.  Stanley's  curbstone  footman  put  her  into  her 
modest  cab,  she  found  the  way  blocked  by  a  well- 
appointed  little  brougham,  into  which  a  young  man 
was  about  to  assist  the  beauty,  Miss  Sybil  Gwynne. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  be  in  your  way,"  smiled  the  young 
lady.  "  Won't  you  let  Mr.  Ainslie— this  is  Mr.  Ains- 
lie,  Mrs.  Grantham— put  you  in  yours  first?" 

"I  hope  Katty  will  always  do  and  say  things  to 
older  people  as  prettily  as  that,"  thought  Katty 's 
mama,  while  the  youthful  Corydon  in  a  long  frock- 
coat  doffed  his  high,  shining  hat,  and  stepped  back  to 
do  his  lady's  bidding. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  creat 
ing  a  diversion,"  said  he,  in  answer  to  the  older  lady's 
thanks ;  "  Miss  Gwynne  has  been  lecturing  me  so  that 
I  don't  know  which  end  I  stand  upon." 

"  For  shame  !  "  cried  Sybil.  "  You  have  got  the  true 
American  habit  of  exaggeration.  I  merely  told  him, 
Mrs.  Grantham,  that  New  York  young  men  ought  to 
take  the  matter  into  their  own  hands,  and  try  to  make 
themselves  enjoy  life  more." 

"  I  like  your  calling  me  a  New  York  young  man," 


GOOD  AMERICANS  13 

put  in  Ainslie,  "  considering  I  was  born  in  Paris,  edu 
cated  in  England,  and  have  spent  most  of  my  summers 
knocking  around  the  Continent." 

"Well,  a  good  American  young  man,  if  you  like 
that  better." 

"It  is  so  hard,"  said  Ainslie,  whimsically,  " to  be  a 
good  American  when  one  knows  only  New  York,  Bos 
ton,  Washington,  a  little  bit  of  Baltimore,  and  all  of 
Newport.  When  I  try  to  take  in  the  monotony  of  the 
rest  of  our  country,  my  interest  becomes  homeopathi- 
cally  diluted." 

"  Oh,  dear ! "  exclaimed  Katrina  Grantham,  really 
shocked,  and  moving  toward  her  carriage,  into  which 
she  got,  only  to  be  detained  by  their  further  re 
marks. 

"Now  don't  you  think  he  deserves  my  'lectures/ 
Mrs.  Grantham  ? "  said  Sybil  Gwynne,  lightly. 

"  I  am  not  a  good  judge ;  I  live  with  people  who 
believe  in  so  many  things,"  replied  Mrs.  Grantham, 
hurriedly. 

"It  >s  more  my  misfortune  than  my  fault,  Mrs. 
Grantham,"  went  on  Ainslie,  a  fresh-colored  young 
man  of  very  open  and  engaging  countenance.  "  To 
prove  it,  I  have  deliberately  and  in  cold  blood  come 
back  here  to  live.  I  hope  the  gods  who  sit  up  above 
and  reward  us  mortals  with  more  or  less  discrimina 
tion  will  confer  on  me  a  large  share  of —what  do  they 
confer — ambrosia? — no ;  I  have  an  aunt  who  gives  me 
ambrosia-cake  for  tea,  and  it ;s  uncommonly  nasty— 
asphodel— well,  anything  you  like— for  my  self-sacri 
fice  in  becoming  a  poor  republican." 

"  Tell  him  to  drive  on,  please,"  said  Katrina  to  Mrs. 


14  GOOD  AMERICANS 

Stanley's  footman.  "Good-by,"  she  nodded  to  the 
pair  standing  upon  the  sidewalk. 

As  she  drove  away  Sybil  turned  to  the  young  man 
reproachfully. 

"  There,  now  j  you  have  made  another  sensible  per 
son  think  of  you  as  a  rather  civil  outlaw.'7 

"  The  difference  between  us  is  that  you  think  these 
things  about  our  native  land,  and  I  say  them.  I  sup 
pose  I  may  n't  share  the  privilege  of  your  Aunt  Lewis- 
ton's  cozy  little  brougham  and  drive  home  with  you  ? " 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Sybil. 

"Not  if  I  am  dropped  at  the  corner  nearest  my 
club?" 

"  No,"  she  replied  inexorably. 

"  Very  well,  then.  In  London  you  would  n't  have 
minded  letting  me  come  with  you.  I  can't  afford  a 
hansom  in  New  York ;  so  I  '11  just  hie  me  to  a  street 
car,  and  pack  in  with  thirty  or  forty  dingy  people  go 
ing  home  from  work.  I  shall  be  jostled  and  punched 
out  of  all  semblance  of  decency,  and  my  only  over 
coat  will  be  strained  in  the  seams  till — have  you  no 
pity  on  my  only  overcoat?  Are  you  aware  what  it 
costs  to  buy  a  new  one  of  a  tailor  here  ? " 

"  Very  sorry ;  but— home,  please,"  said  Sybil,  letting 
herself  be  shut  inside  the  little  carriage,  from  which 
her  fair  loveliness  shone  out  like  a  star. 

The  latter  part  of  her  remark,  being  addressed  to 
the  footman,  was  at  once  transmitted  to  the  power 
upon  the  box,  and  the  brougham  moved  away.  Ains- 
lie,  lifting  his  hat  and  smiling  pleasantly,  stood  there 
until  she  had  disappeared  from  view. 

"  What  a  nice  boy ! "  Sybil  thought  to  herself,  as 


GOOD  AMERICANS  15 

she  settled  back  into  the  soft  cushions  j  "  though  at 
twenty-eight  he  should  hardly  be  called  a  boy.  He 
amuses  me  more  than  any  one,  and  we  understand 
each  other  perfectly ;  but  I  wish  he  would  sometimes 
seem  to  be  in  earnest  about  something." 

Sybil  Gwynne  was  engaged  in  trying  faithfully  to 
adapt  herself  to  a  complete  change  of  thought  and 
habit  in  daily  life.  The  Old- World  tinge  in  her  was, 
by  dint  of  constant  application  to  the  claims  of  her 
present  busy,  sparkling  life,  gradually  fading  out. 
The  people  with  whom  her  lot  was  cast  certainly  un 
derstood  the  art  of  living  in  its  high  material  sense, 
and,  from  dawn  to  dawn  again,  with  discreet  intervals 
for  sleep,  her  days  were  passed  in  pursuit  of  pleasant 
things. 

Yet  there  was  something  lacking— just  what,  she 
was  not  prepared  to  say.  The  second  season  of  this 
brilliant  existence  had  begun  to  drag  with  her.  Wher 
ever  she  turned,  there  was  the  same  perspective  of 
solvent,  restless  folk  intent  upon  accumulating  and 
displaying  the  decorations  of  life,  which,  it  must  be 
said,  their  opportunities  for  culture  and  observation 
enabled  them  to  appreciate  perfectly.  And,  beyond 
these,  Sybil  saw  nothing  of  her  fellow-Americans. 
Her  sole  idea  of  her  countrymen  and  -women  was  a 
class  privileged  to  make  ducks  and  drakes  of  any  ob 
stacles  in  the  way  of  their  desires— a  class  spending  a 
few  months  of  the  winter  in  palaces  in  town,  then,  at 
the  first  hint  of  spring,  wafting  themselves  away  to 
some  far  southland  in  yachts  or  steamers,  or  else 
pounding  the  railway  lines  of  the  continent  with  the 
wheels  of  their  private  cars  in  search  of  softer  airs 


16  GOOD  AMERICANS 

and  change ;  in  the  early  summer  running  over  to 
London  or  Paris  for  the  season  and  for  shopping  j  at 
midsummer  returning  to  chateaux  at  Newport,  Bar 
Harbor,  Lenox,  or  on  the  Hudson,  there  to  live  the 
lives  of  the  princes  of  the  earth.  Did  any  one  of  them 
fancy  founding  an  estate,  might  not  he  purchase  vast 
acres  of  primeval  woodland,  and  in  a  few  months7  time 
adorn  it  with  roads,  plantations,  bridges,  drains,  out 
buildings,  stables,  hothouses,  lawns,  gardens,  walls 
covered  with  vines,  and  a  house  built  and  fitted  up  by 
relays  of  mechanics,  working  at  night  by  electric  light 
to  fulfil  the  contract  by  a  date  fixed  ?  There  was  no 
end  to  it.  As  fast  as  one  favored  being  had  accom 
plished  some  wonder  of  Aladdin's  lamp,  and  before 
his  friends  had  ceased  admiring  it,  a  successor  would 
arise  to  send  his  rocket  even  higher  into  the  zenith  ! 
And  the  effect  of  this  upon  their  community  was  not 
inspiring.  In  the  intervals  of  phenomenal  surprises 
no  one  could  settle  down  to  coherent  thought  and 
purpose.  Unless  the  head-lines  in  society  events  were 
as  astonishing  as  those  in  the  daily  newspapers,  peo 
ple  felt  a  little  bit  aggrieved.  The  fad  of  haste  and 
unrest  was  a  result.  In  the  perpetual  chase  after  nov 
elty  Sybil  felt  herself,  like  the  rest,  becoming  breath 
less  without  a  cause  j  becoming  trivial,  disconnected, 
artificial,  and,  at  times  like  the  present,  wondering 
what  it  is  all  worth. 

Sybil  was,  in  fact,  in  the  state  of  mind  in  which 
some  women  join  sewing-classes  and  go  to  Lenten 
services,  or  violently  visit  the  unoffending  poor.  As 
she  drove  down  the  long  avenue  to  Washington 
Square,  she  found  herself  dwelling  with  satisfaction 


GOOD  AMERICANS  17 

upon  the  fine  lines  and  earnest,  dependable  expression 
of  Katrina  Grantham's  face.  Here,  at  last,  was  an 
acquaintance  who  offered  her  some  variation  upon  the 
society  by  which  she  was  surrounded.  The  invitation 
to  Katrina's  dinner,  although  extorted  by  Mrs.  Stan 
ley,  had  been  graciously  given. 

"  Do  you  reaUy  think  I  had  better  ? "  Sybil  had  found 
time  afterward  to  convey  in  a  whisper  to  her  hostess, 
with  a  glance  in  the  direction  of  unconscious  Katrina. 

"  Of  course,"  Mrs.  Stanley  had  said  bluntly.  "  Do 
you  suppose  she  does  n't  know  you  will  be  a  l  card '  ? " 

"  Card "  or  not,  Sybil  continued  to  dwell  upon  the 
thought  of  the  15th  with  animation.  To  get  out  of 
her  groove,  to  mix  a  little  with  brain- workers  and  pos 
sessors  of  the  mental  power  that  makes  the  wheels  of 
great  New  York  go  round,  was  a  decided  event.  And 
more  than  once  she  recurred  to  what  Mrs.  Grantham 
had  said  about  the  "  new  young  man.77  The  terms  of 
the  lady's  phraseology  were  so  different  from  those 
applied  to  the  heroes  of  her  horizon  in  general. 

"  I  am  going  to  meet  a  l  best  latter-day  American/  " 
she  said,  smiling  at  herself  in  the  mirror,  while  the 
maid  dressed  her  hair.  "  I  have  n't  an  idea  what  is  an 
*  1840  portrait  of  a  gentleman.'  But  I  recognize  Sir 
Charles  Grandison,  and  I  like  a  man  who  thinks  all 
women  ought  to  be  goddesses.  i  Big,  trustful,  head 
strong,  ardent.7  Oh,  dear !  what  a  very  out-of-the- 
way  individual  he  must  be  ! " 

Sybil's  ordinary  evening  frock  in  company  was  of 
plain  white  satin;  for,  as  Mrs.  Arden  said,  " These 
dinner-girls  leave  nothing  for  the  brides  !  "  It  became 
her  admirably;  and  as  she  followed  Mrs.  Stanley, 


18  GOOD  AMERICANS 

twenty  minutes  after  time,  into  Mrs.  Grantham's  draw 
ing-room,  that  deep-red-vestured  apartment,  hung  with 
the  satin  damask  that  had  been  Katrina's  mother's, 
seemed  to  have  received  into  it  a  lily  tall  and  fair 
upon  a  virgin  stalk.  They  went  in  to  dinner  almost 
immediately,  Mr.  Justice  Grantham,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  leading  off  with  Mrs.  Stanley,  who,  having 
what  she  called  la  grippe  (in  reality  only  a  good  old- 
fashioned  cold  in  the  head),  looked  swelled  and  stupe 
fied.  The  splendor  of  her  tiara,  the  luster  of  her 
pearls,  could  not  eclipse  or  cause  to  be  forgotten  a 
very  decided  redness  about  the  great  lady's  nose  j  and 
during  the  soup  she  could  hardly  speak  for  physical 
reasons,  combined  with  deep  anxiety  lest  they  should 
not  serve  champagne  directly  with  the  fish. 

"  In  this  kind  of  a  house  they  will  be  likely  to  keep 
it  back  till  the  saddle  of  mutton/7  she  thought  mourn 
fully;  but  after  her  first  mouthful  of  timbale,  when 
the  life-giving  golden  fluid  flowed  bubbling  into  her 
glass,  Mrs.  Stanley  sipped  and  was  consoled.  Mrs. 
Grantham,  observing  these  things  from  afar,  had  now 
but  one  surviving  concern— lest  her  dignified  and 
sarcastic  husband,  whom  she  had  heard  repeatedly 
inveigh  against  fine  ladies  of  the  stripe  of  her  old 
friend  Etta— who,  ever  since  her  announcement  of  the 
present  banquet,  had  peppered  her  with  small  shot  of 
ridicule  for  attempting  a  Stanley  affair— who  at  the 
time  of  going  to  his  room  to  dress  had  been  gloomily 
foreboding  utter  failure  for  the  whole  entertainment 
—should  allow  this  frame  of  mind  to  appear  in  his 
conversation  with  their  chief  guest ! 

What  was  her  relief,  upon  peeping  between  a  relic 


GOOD  AMERICANS  19 

of  the  ancestral  Granthams— a  silver  christening-bowl 
filled  with  red  roses— and  the  candelabra  on  four  sides 
of  it  blooming  with  crimson  shades,  to  behold  the  head 
of  her  household  engaged  in  the  most  brilliant  banter 
at  his  command  with  the  lady  at  his  right!  Mr. 
Grantham  was  not  only  what  wives  call  "  laying  him 
self  out  to  do  the  proper  thing " :  he  was  apparently 
engaged  in  "  being  fascinating  on  his  own  account." 
And  Etta  was  warming  into  such  suavity  as  Mrs. 
Grantham  had  not  seen  her  show  since  Etta  was  a 
girl! 

"  I  wish,  for  their  own  sakes,  men  could  be  a  little 
more  consistent,"  flashed  through  the  hostess's  mind  j 
"  but  just  now  this  is  a  heaven-send,  and  I  '11  never  in 
the  world  cast  it  up  at  Mowbray.  And  the  sweet 
breads  are  just  right,  thank  goodness !  Etta  seems  to 
have  forgotten  all  about  her  desire  to  cultivate  Dave- 
nant,  but  that  leaves  him  free  to  make  friends  with 
Sybil  Gwynne.  I  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  tell 
those  two  women  that  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  a 
match  between  Davenant  and  Agatha  Carnifex.  It 
was  part  of  my  deep-laid  plot  to  put  the  two  opposite 
each  other,  instead  of  side  by  side,  at  their  first  meet 
ing.  I  must  not  seem  to  throw  them  at  each  other's 
heads.  Agatha,  I  am  sure,  was  sent  from  heaven  to 
complete  the  destiny  of  a  fine,  ambitious  man  like 
Davenant.  Nothing  would  induce  me  to  let  my  hus 
band  know  how  much  this  fancy  has  taken  hold  of 
me." 

Miss  Carnifex,  seated  between  the  grave  and  distin 
guished  inventor  of  a  flying-machine  that  needed  only 
capital  to  launch  it  triumphantly  into  space,  and  a 


20  GOOD  AMERICANS 

young  African  explorer  just  returned  from  the  heart 
of  the  Black  Continent,  appeared  entirely  at  ease,  and 
unconscious  of  the  schemes  projected  for  her  by  the 
lady  of  the  house.  She  was  a  stately  girl  of  six-and- 
twenty,  to  whom  the  control,  for  some  years  past,  of 
her  father's  widowed  establishment  had  lent  an  air  of 
command  and  self-dependence,  the  possessor  of  some 
beauty,  more  intelligence,  an  active  habit  of  mind  and 
body,  and  many  theories.  The  consciousness  that  her 
organization  was  of  a  finer  quality  than  that  of  most 
people  she  met  gave  Agatha  perhaps  a  little  compla 
cency  in  considering  herself,  but  it  did  not  interfere 
with  her  ready  generosity  toward  the  needs  and  short 
comings  of  others.  She  was  always  occupied  with 
some  scheme  that,  whether  satisfactorily  to  herself  or 
not,  she  carried  to  its  end.  She  had  made  many  mis 
takes,  suffered  a  few  acute  disappointments,  and  still 
went  on  journeying  up  the  arc  of  her  rainbow,  expect 
ing  some  day  to  find  the  pot  of  gold— happiness —at 
the  other  end  of  it.  One  additional  peculiarity  of 
Miss  Carnifex  should  be  noted.  She  was  a  devoted 
American,  a  student  of  history,  a  Colonial  Dame,  a 
conservator  of  family  traditions;  and  although  she 
had  traveled,  seen,  and  experienced  as  much  as  most 
young  women  of  her  surroundings,  invariably  re 
turned  with  enthusiasm  to  her  own  sphere  of  duty 
and  pleasure. 

One  can  appreciate,  therefore,  Mrs.  Grantham's  con 
viction  that  an  opportunity  had  come  to  her  to  make 
two  deserving  people  happy  and  complete  their  use 
fulness  to  their  kind.  But,  as  the  dinner  that  was  to 
lead  up  to  this  desirable  state  of  things  progressed,  she 


GOOD  AMERICANS  21 

became  painfully  aware  that,  while  the  attention  of 
Miss  Carnif ex  more  than  once  wavered  away  from  her 
scientist  and  explorer  to  pass  in  swift  review  the  per 
sonal  claims  of  her  supposed  alter  ego,  Mr.  Peter  Dav- 
enant  kept  his  eyes  and  ears  for  Miss  Sybil  Gwynne 
alone.  Having  done  what  civility  demanded  for  the 
lady  at  his  other  side,  he  had  talked,  with  every  evi 
dence  of  keen  delight  in  this  preoccupation,  to  the 
beautiful  creature,  who,  as  Katrina  said  to  her  vexed 
inner  self,  was  no  more  suited  to  his  workaday  needs 
than  a  Dresden  figurine  is  appropriate  to  a  bronze 
pedestal  in  the  park. 


II 


URING  the  years  that  Peter  Davenant 
had  been  at  the  grindstone  in  New 
York  he  had  found  it  convenient  to 
dispense  almost  altogether  with  ro 
mantic  sentiment.  What  little  he  re 
tained  centered  in  the  memory  of  his 
mother,  now  passed  out  of  life,  and  of  his  Southern 
home  going  to  decay  amid  many  acres  of  plantation 
land,  rich  in  picturesque  greenery  and  semi-tropic 
blooms— but  not  in  crops. 

Sometimes  he  would  step  to  the  window  of  his  office 
in  a  "  sky-scraping  "  edifice  down-town,  looking  up  at 
the  space  of  sunny  blue  sky  above  the  canon  formed 
by  high  walls  on  either  side,  to  be  poignantly  assailed 
by  his  earliest  recollections.  He  seemed  to  see  again 
the  coral  branches  of  the  redbud,  the  waving  of  gar 
lands  of  gray  moss  and  yellow  jasmine,  the  gleam 
of  humming-birds  and  black  butterflies  with  silver- 
spotted  wings,  that,  when  in  boy  hood  he  lay  upon  the 
ground  to  look  upward,  used  to  be  printed  upon  such 
a  background  of  vivid  azure. 

Then,  with  a  sigh,  he  would  turn  back  to  desk  and 
chair  and  dull  routine.  His  pleasure  was  dealing  with 
affairs  in  the  court-room ;  his  penance,  office  work. 

22 


GOOD  AMERICANS  23 

But  he  was  interested  in  all  of  it,  and  out  of  the  inter 
views  with  keen-faced  men  of  business  wearing  rusty 
tweed  suits,  who  denned  their  clever  ideas  in  idiomatic 
Americanese,  often  got  inspiration  of  an  active  sort. 
With  all  the  energy  of  a  nature  that  must  have  outlet 
for  its  strength,  he  believed  in  his  life,  efforts,  ambi 
tions,  influences.  What  had  at  first  offended  his  finer 
sense  in  some  of  his  co-workers  was  accepted  as  a 
means  toward  an  end.  Out  of  this  training-school  for 
robust  citizenship  he  had  come  harder  externally,  but 
within  full  of  enthusiasm  for  humanity,  and  tender  as 
a  woman  toward  what  touched  his  heart. 

Now,  at  thirty,  having  in  hand  some  of  the  prizes 
for  which  he  had  striven  doughtily,  and  being  on  the 
way  to  a  wider  sphere  of  independent  action,  he  knew 
moments  when  the  song  of  the  siren  sounded  in  his 
ear,  calling  on  him  to  rest  and  listen  and  let  his  eyes 
glisten  with  pleasure  and  love  and  jubilee.  Until 
recently  he  had  sought  no  place  among  the  people  to 
whom  by  training  and  antecedents  he  belonged.  The 
only  women  he  knew  had  been  encountered  in  board 
ing-houses,  and  were  of  the  class  that  flood  the  shop 
ping-streets  of  a  fine  afternoon,  that  perfume  them 
selves  with  cheap  scents,struggle  over  bargain-counters, 
and  indoors  read  "  society  columns,"  dreaming  of  an 
El  Dorado  wherein  their  husbands  or  fathers  may,  by 
some  lucky  fluke,  lift  them  up  to  be  a  part  of  this 
coveted  social  whirl.  Commonplace  men — vulgar 
men,  even— Davenant  was  resigned  to  live  and  work 
among.  They  had  almost  always  the  redeeming 
quality  of  an  unaffected  desire  to  follow  their  destined 
walk  in  life,  and  were  often  of  the  stuff  that  has  gone 


24  GOOD  AMERICANS 

into  the  real  greatness  of  the  western  continent.  But 
a  vulgar  woman  he  could  not  endure  or  approach,  and 
a  commonplace  woman  wearied  him  thoroughly. 

When,  therefore,  this  big,  masterful,  and  self-suffi 
cient  young  man  found  himself  suddenly  brought  into 
contact  with  one  of  the  exotic  specimens  of  a  highly 
cultured  race,  a  creature  as  far  apart  from  him  in 
habit  of  life  and  mode  of  thought  as  the  poles  are 
separate,  the  result  was  like  a  rifle-shot  going  through 
his  breast.  Before  the  ices  were  handed  at  Mrs. 
Grantham's  dinner,  he  was  asking  himself,  in  a  sort  of 
sweet  distraction,  what  was  the  nature  of  this  pang 
she  had  made  him  feel.  How  had  he  lived  through 
so  many  long,  arid  years  without  feeling  it  before  ? 
What  would  his  future  life  be  worth  if  he  could  n't  feel 
it  repeatedly,  enduringly? 

Every  bit  of  her,  from  the  crown  of  her  small,  well- 
set  head  to  the  tips  of  her  rose-tinted  fingers,  satisfied 
his  fastidious  tastes.  The  soft  voice  that  caressed  his 
ear  in  her  pleasant  discourse  was  in  such  delicious 
contrast  with  those  nasal  tones  most  familiar  to  him 
in  her  sex.  Even  the  measured  conventionalism  of 
her  manner  pleased  him.  It  was  thus  he  would  have 
the  woman  he  honored  bear  herself  in  the  presence  of 
a  stranger.  The  bounce,  the  swagger,  the  challenge 
or  open  coquetry  of  commoner  clay  had  at  no  time 
stirred  his  pulse  like  Sybil  Gwynne's  cool  unconscious 
ness  of  their  personal  relation.  Sybil  also  represented 
to  him  a  world  from  which  the  nature  of  his  occupa 
tions  and  ambitions  had  well-nigh  shut  him  out— the 
world  of  travel,  leisure,  acquaintance  with  things  ar 
tistic  and  picturesque ;  as,  for  instance,  when  she  told 


GOOD  AMERICANS  25 

him  of  her  sensations,  the  year  before,  in  coming  upon 
the  sarcophagus  of  the  great  Alexander  in  the  Tchi- 
mili-Kiosk  at  Constantinople. 

"I  had  read  of  it— heard  of  it,"  said  she;  "but 
what  is  that  to  seeing  an  object  so  noble,  so  elevating  ? 
When  I  stood  face  to  face  with  that  more  than  two- 
thousau  drears-old  casket  of  Pentelic  marble,  carved 
with  the  deep  heroic  frieze  and  decked  with  those 
lovely  rose-and-lilac-tinted  garlands,  I  felt  actually 
lifted  up;  I  knew  I  was  looking  at  one  of  the  Old 
World's  rarest  masterpieces  of  art.  One  has  some 
thing  of  that  feeling  standing  before  the  l  Venus  of 
Melos '  or  the  t  Winged  Victory.7  But  not  even  the 
Parthenon  at  sunset  gave  me  just  the  impression  I 
had  from  Alexander's  tomb.'7 

Poor  Davenant,  who  knew  much  more  than  she  did 
^frout  the  conquering  hero's  life  and  deeds,  and  yet 
had  never  got  so  far  away  from  his  own  country  as 
the  docks  at  Liverpool,  felt  arise  in  him,  not  envy  of 
this  slender,  favored  girl,  but  an  impulse  to  embody 
her  with  the  classic  images  she  evoked— those  choice 
treasures  he  had  always  longed  to  see  and  bow  down 
before.  He  murmured  something  about  looking  up 
the  back  number  of  a  magazine  that  had  had  an  arti 
cle  on  the  "  find  "  of  the  so-called  Alexander's  sarcoph 
agus,  in  Sidon,  in  1885.  He  even  coldly  discussed  the 
part  taken  in  this  discovery  by  the  American  mis 
sionaries  then  in  Syria.  And  all  the  while  he  was 
singing  in  his  heart :  "  It  is  she  who  is  fit  to  be  among 
the  rarest,  the  finest  works  of  the  old  Pentelic  sculp 
tors.  Could  I  carve,  she  should  stand  for  my  ideal, 
and,  when  finished,  I  would  put  my  work  on  the  top- 


26  GOOD  AMERICANS 

most  pinnacle  of  Parnassus  or  Athens,  and  then  kneel 
down  and  worship  it." 

Mrs.  Stanley,  feeling  better  of  her  cold,  and  having 
to  acknowledge  herself  well  entertained  by  her  host, 
now  turned  to  Mr.  Davenant.  Although  it  was  near 
the  time  for  the  ladies  to  leave  the  table,  she  had  ex 
changed  with  him  but  a  few  banalities. 

"I  wonder  if  you  have  anything  on  for  Monday 
evening?"  she  said  languidly,  looking  at  him  with 
half-shut  eyes. 

Davenant  tried  to  think.  There  was  the  Patrick  Q. 
O'Shaughnessy  Association  dinner,  at  which  some  of 
his  henchmen  were  urging  him  to  drop  in  and  make 
them  a  much-needed  speech. 

"  Because,  if  you  have  n't,"  went  on  the  lady,  with 
an  air  of  never  having  heard  of  a  refusal  of  one  of  her 
invitations,  "perhaps  you  will  dine  with  us,— I  mean 
Sybil  Gwynne  and  me,— and  go  to  the  opera  afterward. 
There  will  be  only  Mr.  Ainslie  besides  •  my  husband, 
as  you  know,  sailed  to-day  in  the  yacht  for  the  West 
Indies." 

He  knew  as  little  of  her  husband  as  Mrs.  Stanley 
had  known  about  the  unjust  judge  whose  career  Peter 
had  helped  to  cut  short  j  but  he  bowed  to  the  informa 
tion,  rejoiced,  in  spite  of  himself,  at  her  bidding  to 
meet  Sybil  Gwynne. 

"  Does— er— Miss  Gwynne  live  with  you  ? "  he  asked, 
thrillingly  conscious  of  a  flow  of  white  satin  that  bil 
lowed  close  on  the  other  side  of  him. 

"  Sybil— dear  me,  no  !  She  lives  with  a  very  tire 
some  old  cat,  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Lewiston,  who  is  an  em 
bodiment  of  colonial  New  York.  Her  dining-room  is 


GOOD  AMERICANS  27 

filled  with  General  Washington  pictures,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  I  believe  she  has  got  Benjamin  Frank 
lin  woven  in  silk,  under  glass,  upon  her  wall.  Agatha 
Carnifex  would  have  been  just  the  niece  for  her— in 
stead  of  Sybil,  who  is  dimly  conscious  of  General 
Washington's  habit  of  veracity,  and  that  he  was  the 
father  of  an  overgrown  country  we  all  get  away  from 
whenever  we  can  do  it.  Mrs.  Lewiston  hates  me,  be 
cause  Sybil  comes  with  me,  and  because  I  hate  Mrs. 
Lewiston.  So  there  you  are !  But  Sybil  is  a  dear." 

Whenever  language  failed  Mrs.  Stanley  in  which  to 
sum  up  any  one  rejoicing  in  the  beams  of  her  ap 
proval,  she  epitomized  him  or  her  as  a  "  dear."  George 
Meredith  and  Tolstoi  were  "dears";  the  charming 
young  wife  of  the  then  President  was  a  "dear";  so 
were  the  Pope,  Mr.  Gladstone,  her  bishop,  Jean  de 
Reszke,  and  the  French  artist  who  had  just  finished 
her  portrait. 

"  You  do  me  too  much  honor,"  said  Davenant.  "  I 
shall  be  most  happy  to  come  to  you  on  Monday." 

"  At  seven-thirty,  then,  please ;  and  I  shall  try  my 
best  to  be  down-stairs  in  time.  Do  you  know,  1 'm 
wondering  why  nobody  ever  told  me  what  a  nice  hus 
band  Katrina  Grantham  has  got.  He  has  actually 
made  me  laugh.  So  much  better  than  old  Cleve,  with 
his  cut-and-dried  little  stories.  Now,  mind  you  don't 
forget  Monday.  You  are  sure  you  've  not  promised 
anybody  else  ? " 

Davenant  thought,  with  a  shudder,  of  the  Patrick 
Q.  O'Shaughnessys,  with  their  green  rosettes,  howling 
and  thumping  on  the  table,  smoking  and  speechmak- 
ing,  to  the  music  of  a  brass  band  in  the  gallery. 


28  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"  Nobody  that  I  dare  not  forsake  for  you,"  he  said 
with  prompt  gallantry. 

"Pretty  well  for  an  unsophisticated  beginner/7 
thought  Mrs.  Stanley,  "when  I  remember  Reggy 
Banks  telling  me  he  'd  come  to  me  at  the  opera  if  his 
valet  did  n't  forget  to  put  him  in  mind  of  it,  and 
Lewis  Ford,  who  asked  why  Jack  put  out  his  second- 
best  whisky  for  the  smoking-room.  This  man  looks 
like  a  medieval  Florentine— would  do  for  Paolo  in  a 
Francesca  da  Eimini  tableau;  seems  smitten  with 
Sybil,  rather.  Perhaps  he  is  piqued  because  I  did  n't 
take  notice  of  him  a  little  earlier." 

It  was  Etta's  delusion  that  she  was  a  great  lady  out 
of  a  French  novel,  who  must,  for  consistency's  sake, 
be  provided  with  a  hopeless  adorer,  if  not  a  grande 
passion.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  not  even  the  women's 
luncheon  parties  or  sewing-classes  had  been  able  to 
detect  in  her  the  most  trivial  lapse  in  propriety ;  and 
Jack  might  come  and  Jack  might  go  without  fear  of 
experiencing  an  emotion  of  jealousy  toward  his  spouse. 
The  youngsters  in  attendance  on  her  were  on  free-and- 
easy  terms  of  comradeship,  which,  valuing  their  sub 
stantial  privileges  in  her  establishment,  they  gave  no 
token  of  a  wish  to  exchange  for  deeper  sentiment. 
But  Etta  could  not  refrain  from  thinking  of  herself 
as  a  fascinator,  and  her  fancy  was  to  make  plans  for 
tete-a-tetes,  as  often  as  not  forgotten  when  the  time 
came.  As  the  ladies  now  arose  to  leave  the  table,  she 
did  not  neglect  to  engage  Mr.  Justice  Grantham  to 
come  to  call  on  her,  at  four-fifteen,  the  following 
Sunday  afternoon,  which,  much  to  his  own  surprise, 
that  gentleman  found  himself  promising  to  do.  He 


GOOD  AMERICANS  29 

was  glad,  though,  that  Katrina  was  at  the  far  forward 
end  of  the  line  of  fair  ones  the  men  were  conducting 
into  exile.  And  when  he  thought  of  what  his  darling 
mischief,  Katty,  would  say  if  she  knew  of  this  diva 
gation  on  her  revered  father's  part,  a  little  flush  came 
into  his  face. 

"  Until  Sunday,  then,"  Etta  said  to  him,  in  a  confi 
dential  undertone,  as  they  parted. 

"  What !  You  are  not  going  to  run  away  now,  be 
fore  we  get  in  there?"  asked  Grantham,  rather  stu 
pidly. 

"No;  but  one  never  knows  what  opportunity— at 
four-fifteen,  remember,"  she  answered  with  her  best 
air  of  mystery,— only  to  ignore  the  engagement  long 
before  Sunday  came— though,  as  Grantham  went  that 
day  for  a  walk  with  Katty  instead,  no  great  harm  was 
done,  and  when  Mrs.  Stanley  next  met  him  in  the 
lobby  at  the  opera-house,  she  had  to  ask  Sybil  who 
was  that  rather  good-looking  man  who  bowed  to  them. 

"  My  dear  Katrina,  your  house  is  charming,  your 
husband  is  charming,  and  my  cold  is  lots  better  for 
coming  out,"  she  said,  settling  down  in  a  sovereign 
manner  amid  the  cushions  of  Katrina's  Morris  chair  in 
the  drawing-room.  "  Pray  talk  to  me  a  little  now, 
and  let  those  two  girls  take  care  of  each  other." 

Agatha  Carnifex  and  Sybil,  who  had  gravitated  to 
gether  naturally,  were  sitting  apart  on  a  small  Chip 
pendale  sofa  built  for  two.  This  left  unattached  the 
fifth  lady  of  their  party,  Mrs.  Willoughby,  who,  not 
having  had  a  chance  at  the  planet  of  fashion  during 
dinner,  was  disposed  to  make  up  for  it  now. 

Mrs.  Willoughby,  too,  was  a  leader,  but  her  king- 


30  GOOD  AMERICANS 

dom  and  Mrs.  Stanley's  were  not  the  same,  and  Mrs. 
Willoughby  was  quite  willing  to  leave  her  throne  and 
take  a  footstool  in  Mrs.  Stanley's  domain.  To  say 
why  this  should  have  been  I  leave  to  some  one  suffi 
ciently  astute  to  solve  the  social  riddle  of  New  York. 
Mrs.  Willoughby  was  every  whit  as  well  entitled  to 
supremacy  as  Mrs.  Stanley.  Mrs.  Grantham,  who 
owed  the  lesser  light  a  dinner,  had  hesitated  a  little 
about  making  use  of  this  occasion  to  liquidate  the 
debt  j  but  since  Mrs.  Arden,  who  had  been  first  invited, 
had  fallen  out,  as  well  as  three  other  desirable  "  unat 
tached"  females  bidden  to  fill  the  vacancy,  and  Mr. 
Chetwood,  the  famous  ^bachelor  lawyer  who  carried 
sweetness  and  light  to  every  dinner-table  on  his  list, 
had  been  called  away  to  Washington,  what  was  a  poor 
hostess  to  do  ?  Mrs.  Grantham  filled  up  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Willoughby. 

Mrs.  Willoughby,  eminent  in  charities,  a  great  pa 
troness  of  musical  and  dramatic  recitals,  and  of  de 
serving  beginners  in  general,  was  just  at  present  in 
the  throes  of  having  moved  into  a  grand  new  house. 
This  complaint,  so  common  among  New-Yorkers,  had 
attacked  her  in  a  virulent  form.  Most  of  her  days,  of 
late,  had  been  spent  in  conducting  parties  of  friends 
from  room  to  room,  from  floor  to  floor,  of  her  recent 
acquisition.  On  more  than  one  such  occasion,  it  may 
be  remarked,  Mr.  Willoughby,  in  his  shirt-sleeves, 
playing  an  obbligato  upon  his  back  hair  with  two 
silver  brushes,  had  been  exhibited  (without  intention) 
in  his  dressing-room.  And  Mrs.  Willoughby  had 
received  so  many  praises  for  her  taste,  ingenuity, 
practical  skill,— most  of  which  were  due  to  the  archi- 


GOOD  AMERICANS  31 

tect-decorator,— that  even  she  had  grown  aweary  of 
the  chorus.  She  knew  intuitively  what  people  were 
going  to  say  about  things  when  they  stood  upon  cer 
tain  rugs  or  sections  of  parquetry  floor.  She  was 
tired  of  her  own  stock  remarks  about  curtains  and 
cabinets  and  corner  cupboards.  But  she  could  not 
yet  bring  herself  to  give  up  her  glory  and  step  into 
the  background  along  with  the  other  women  who  had 
lived  their  little  day  as  the  owners  of  the  last  new 
houses. 

Accordingly,  when  Mrs.  Grantham  graciously  in 
vited  her  to  be  seated  beside  Mrs.  Stanley,  who  looked 
at  her  in  a  coldly  distant  way,  the  lady  at  once  broke 
forth : 

"  Such  a  pleasure  to  come  into  a  finished  house ! 
You  know  we  have  been  waiting  all  the  winter  for  the 
stone  mantelpiece  that  was  carved  in  Paris  for  our 
library.  Now  they  discover  it  will  not  fit,  and  the 
workmen  must  all  come  back  just  when  our  tapestries 
are  hung.  I  '11  declare  I  am  ready  to  leave  every 
thing  and  go  abroad !  " 

"Your  Mr.  Davenant  is  good-looking,"  said  Mrs. 
Stanley,  addressing  herself  to  Katrina.  "  I  like  his 
clear,  dark  skin  and  hazel  eyes;  and  the  profile  is 
wonderfully  strong.  Pray  is  not  that  a  portrait  of 
your  mother  as  I  remember  her  ?  Speaking  of  por 
traits,  have  you  seen  Chatain's  of  me?  Every  one 
says  it  is  his  masterpiece.  It  is  just  now  at  DoutiFs 
gallery,  and,  I  am  told,  is  drawing  crowds.  You  can 
have  no  idea  of  our  trouble  to  pitch  upon  a  proper 
gown  for  my  sittings.  Half  a  dozen  of  mine  were 
rejected,  and  at  last  the  artist  himself  drove  with 


32  GOOD  AMERICANS 

me  to  Worth's  atelier  to  select  that  peach-blossom 
velvet." 

"I  have  seen  it,"  said  Mrs.  Willoughby,  with  cor 
diality.  "The  flesh-tints  are  a  marvel.  Mine,  by 
Carolus,  does  not  compare  with  it.  But  I  find  the 
next  thing  to  getting  a  good  portrait  is  deciding  on 
the  place  to  hang  it  in.  We  made  sure  that  the  bou 
doir  was  exactly  right  for  mine ;  but  somehow  the  old- 
rose  hangings  the  upholsterer  put  up  killed  the  colors 
in  my  background ;  and  now,  after  going  into  every 
room  on  that  floor,  my  picture  is  actually  standing  in 
a  corner  with  its  face  to  the  wall.  Mr.  Willoughby 
says  we  shall  have  to  build  an  annex  to  contain  it." 

"Isn't  your  daughter  going  to  show?"  went  on 
Mrs.  Stanley  to  Katrina.  "  If  she  would  like  my  box 
for  the  Saturday  matinee  at  the  opera,  I  will  send  you 
the  tickets  to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Grantham,  having  it  on  her  lips  to  explain  that 
Katty  had  gone  out  to  a  school-girl  dinner,  but  would 
be  very  glad  to  avail  herself  of  Mrs.  Stanley's  polite 
ness,  was  cut  short  by  the  undaunted  Mrs.  Wil 
loughby. 

"  What  a  good  location  your  box  is  in  !  "  she  said  to 
Mrs.  Stanley.  "  I  tell  my  husband  he  did  not  strike 
his  usual  lucky  vein  when  he  got  ours.  Katty  is  cer 
tainly  a  pretty  and  fascinating  creature,  and,  with 
certain  people  to  back  her,  will  be  sure  to  make  a  suc 
cess.  Indeed,  I  tell  her  that  if  she  is  a  very  good  girl 
from  now  till  then,  I  may  give  her  a  coming-out  cotil 
lion  in  my  ball-room,  for  which  they  are  still  weaving 
the  draperies  in  France,  so  it  will  probably  not  be  fin 
ished  before  next  autumn.  We  must  not  forget  Katty 


GOOD  AMERICANS  33 

next  season,  Mrs.  Stanley.  Between  us  she  will  do 
well." 

Mrs.  Stanley's  cold  eyes  emitted  a  danger-signal. 
She  attempted  to  speak,  but  failed,  and,  hunching 
one  shoulder,  turned  it  deliberately  upon  Mrs.  Wil- 
loughby's  presumption.  Mrs.  Grantham,  in  despair, 
wished  it  had  not  gone  out  of  fashion  to  ask  people  to 
sing  and  play  after  dinner,  since  Mrs.  Willoughby, 
whatever  she  lacked,  was  a  brilliant  pianist  of  the 
modern  school.  Katrina,  although  she  disliked  the 
custom  heartily,  even  wished  that  she  had  hired  an 
artist  to  sing,  recite,  juggle,  or  whistle — in  this  in 
terim. 

"  They  are  not  having  a  happy  time  over  there,"  said 
Agatha  Carnif ex,  whom  few  things  escaped  j  "  shall 
we  enlarge  their  circle  ? " 

So  saying,  she  arose  and,  followed  by  Sybil,  crossed 
the  drawing-room.  The  entrance  of  a  servant  with 
Apollinaris  water  and  a  decanter  of  creme  de  menthe 
effected  the  rest.  The  group,  broken  and  recast,  left 
Etta  protected  on  each  side  by  a  young  lady,  and  Mrs. 
Grantham  at  the  mercy  of  her  effusive  guest. 

Agatha,  when  brought  into  contact  with  Etta  Stan 
ley,  always  felt  herself  misplaced  and  at  a  disadvan 
tage.  An  optimist  in  theory,  ever  ready  to  dwell  upon 
the  hopeful  conditions  of  the  society  of  her  birthplace, 
she  disliked  being  reminded  of  the  firm  foundation 
of  such  rocks  in  the  current  of  progress  as  Etta  and 
her  set.  Among  them  she  found  neither  enthusiasm, 
sense  of  proportion,  nor  capacity  to  distinguish  be 
tween  excellence  and  mediocrity.  The  incoherence, 
the  confusion,  of  their  lives  troubled  her.  But,  tiring 


34  GOOD  AMERICANS 

of  the  attitude  of  a  critic,  she  had  at  last  resolved  to 
take  the  broad  view  that  in  all  great  centers  of  social 
life  good  taste  and  folly  are  equally  distributed,  to 
accept  her  surroundings,  stand  by  her  home  and  birth 
right  with  dignity,  and  grasp  at  the  best  that  came 
to  her. 

In  moments  of  wider  vision  she  looked  with  pride 
upon  a  metropolis  to  which  all  the  nations  of  the  earth 
have  furnished  citizens— a  city  that  in  scope,  prospects, 
tremendous  potentiality,  picturesqueness  of  gathered 
races,  extremes  of  wealth  and  poverty,  must  fix  the  in 
terest  of  every  real  thinker  upon  the  world's  progress. 

But,  from  these  empyrean  thoughts,  what  a  down 
fall  to  Mrs.  Stanley,  a  pretentious  figurehead  to  whom 
numbers  of  the  clever  people  of  Agatha's  acquaintance 
paid  court,  whom  the  younger  generation  of  good  so 
ciety  aspired  to  know  and  emulate  !  She  liked  Sybil, 
whose  gentle  grace  appealed  to  her— who,  if  not  ex 
actly  brilliant,  was  intelligent  and  impressionable.  To 
be  better  friends  with  her  it  had  often  entered  into 
Agatha's  mind  would  be  a  desirable  attainment ;  but 
the  thought  had  been  as  often  dismissed  in  the  whirl 
that  keeps  us  forever  lamenting  the  divergence  from 
ours  of  delightful  lives  into  which  we  have  had 
glimpses  wholly  satisfying,  only  to  lose  them  in  the 
turning  of  the  wheel. 

And  Etta!  How  could  Sybil  stand  being  the 
shadow  of  this  adumbration  of  womankind  ?  Agatha's 
patience  was  also  taxed  by  the  way  in  which  her  own 
beloved  and  respected  father  put  up  with  Etta's  airs 
and  whims;  by  his  declaration  that,  as  she  was  the 
child  of  his  old  friends,  and  her  house  one  of  the  best 


GOOD  AMERICANS  35 

ordered  in  town,  lie  liked  to  drop  in  upon  her  once  in 
a  while ;  worse,  by  his  phlegmatic  confession  that  he 
found  Etta  not  at  all  a  bad  sort  to  talk  to  ! 

Then  there  was  Mowbray  Grantham,  one  of  the  most 
sensible  men  of  Agatha's  acquaintance,  devoting  him 
self  to  Mrs.  Stanley  all  during  dinner,  to  the  exclusion 
of  Mrs.  Willoughby,  who  sat  on  his  other  side.  For  Etta 
he  had  put  forth  his  wit,  his  satire,  his  knowledge  of 
men  and  things.  And  Etta  had  nodded  acquiescence 
till  her  tiara  sent  forth  twinkles  of  coruscating  light  j 
had  smiled  in  her  wooden  fashion ;  had  contributed  no 
fresh  thought  or  keen  response  to  the  conversation  j 
and  yet  her  neighbor  had  appeared  to  be  as  well  pleased 
as  if  she  had  been  a  mine  of  discernment.  All  this 
perplexed  Agatha.  It  made  her  wonder  if  the  man 
exists  who  cannot  be  flattered  by  the  attention  of  a 
woman  of  fashionable  vogue. 

When  the  gentlemen  came  out,  Mrs.  Grantham,  who 
had  been  lying  in  wait  for  this  opportunity,  contrived 
that  Davenant  should  be  placed  in  a  corner  beside 
Miss  Carnif ex.  Then  the  African  explorer,  a  fair  and 
blond-bearded  young  man,  consented,  at  the  solicita 
tion  of  Mrs.  Willoughby,  to  give  the  company  some 
examples  of  native  music  among  a  tribe  of  black  men 
he  had  discovered  on  his  last  journey.  While  every 
one  wondered  if  he  were  about  to  produce  his  instru 
ment  from  his  waistcoat  pocket,— some  wagering  it 
would  prove  to  be  a  jew's-harp,  others  a  comb,— the 
butler,  who  had  been  sent  on  an  errand  to  the  nether 
regions,  reappeared,  bearing  upon  a  silver  tray  two 
sticks  of  kindling-wood.  Accepting  these  with  a  polite 
countenance,  the  explorer  proceeded  to  stand  upon  the 


36  GOOD  AMERICANS 

hearth-rug,  and  striking  them  together  in  rhythmic 
cadence,  accompanied  the  exercise  by  a  weird,  droning 
chant  that  in  the  course  of  time  "  got  upon  the  nerves  " 
of  everybody  present.  Afterward  the  traveler,  with 
the  modesty  of  a  school-boy,  told  two  or  three  thrilling 
incidents  of  adventure  among  his  aborigines  5  and 
then  Mrs.  Stanley  got  up  to  go. 

"  So  interesting,  was  n't  it  ? "  said  Mrs.  Willoughby, 
intercepting  her.  "  Do  you  know,  I  think  I  will  inau 
gurate  my  new  music-room  by  an  African  '  talk '  from 
Dr.  Charles,  with  stereopticon  views  and  that  awfully 
nice  music  upon  kindling-wood.  I  wonder  if  he  would 
do  it?— such  people  always  like  to  talk.  If  I  can 
secure  him  I  will  surely  let  you  know— oh !  this  is  my 
husband,  Mrs.  Stanley,  who  has  not  had  an  opportu 
nity  to  be  presented  to  you  before—" 

"  Pleased  to  meet  you,  madam,"  said  Mr.  Willoughby, 
a  large,  bland,  pink-faced  man,  offensively  well  satis 
fied  with  himself  and  his  wife.  "I  am  afraid  you 
ladies  owe  me  a  grudge  for  having  detained  our  host 
so  long  in  the  dining-room.  The  fact  is,  I  was  telling 
him  our  extraordinary  experience  in  having  to  take 
up  two  floors  and  replace  a  whole  set  of  beams  in  our 
new  house,  because — " 

Mrs.  Stanley  had  moved  away.  As  Sybil  in  her 
wake  passed  to  the  door  of  the  drawing-room,  Agatha 
noticed  that  she  turned  and  bestowed  a  nod  and  smile 
upon  Peter  Davenant,  which  had  the  immediate  effect  of 
making  Agatha's  companion  babble  in  his  speech,  lose 
his  thread  of  talk,  and  flush  up  to  the  roots  of  his  hair. 

"  A  perfect  creature,"  said  Agatha,  readily  and  gen 
erously. 


GOOD  AMERICANS  37 

"  Is  she  not  ? "  he  exclaimed,  then  restrained  himself. 

The  Granthams,  to  whom  it  never  made  any  differ 
ence  in  particular  when  they  went  to  bed,  having  seen 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Willoughby  also  depart,  now  urged  upon 
their  other  guests  to  remain  and  chat.  For  this  pur 
pose  they  adjourned  to  Mowbray  Grantham's  study, 
serving  also  as  a  smoking-room,  and  until  a  late  hour 
sat  about  in  his  old  worn  leather  arm-chairs,  and 
chatted  of  a  wide  variety  of  topics.  Katty,  coming 
flushed  and  rosy  in  her  little  pink-satin  cloak  from 
her  girls'  party,  made  the  rounds,  spoke  to  every  one, 
and  was  sent  off  to  her  slumbers.  Once  or  twice 
Agatha,  noticing  the  clock,  and  solicitous  for  their 
coachman,  tried  to  induce  her  father  to  take  leave. 
But  the  old  boy,  who  was  thoroughly  enjoying  him 
self,  would  not  budge.  It  was  an  arena  for  men's  dis 
cussion  principally,  Katrina  and  her  friend  keeping 
together,  and  listening,  well  pleased.  Among  the 
debates  upon  many  themes  of  interest,  Peter  Davenant, 
shaking  off  the  spell  of  a  recent  influence,  gave  rein 
to  himself,  fairly  flashing  upon  the  imagination  of  his 
hearers.  His  vivid  phrases,  stimulating  wit,  abound 
ing  life  and  spirits,  made  the  utterances  of  others 
seem  tame.  With  all  his  independence  of  mental  at 
titude,  there  was  no  dogmatism  or  pugnacity,  and  a 
quaint,  old-time  courtesy  underlaid  his  manner  with 
men  as  with  women. 

When  at  last  Agatha's  twitch  upon  Mr.  Carnifex's 
coat-sleeve  succeeded  in  abstracting  the  old  gentleman 
from  Mowbray  Grantham's  chair,  and  the  father  and 
daughter  drove  away  home,  he  was  fairly  purring  with 
satisfaction. 


38  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"  That  was  something  like  an  evening,"  he  said  into 
the  huge  white-feather  boa  with  which  Miss  Carnif ex 
had  wrapped  her  neck.  "  Gad !  I  don't  know  when 
1 7ve  met  a  fellow  like  Davenant.  He  ?s  a  man,  Agatha : 
please  make  a  note  of  it !  I  got  him  to  promise  to 
come  in  and  eat  dinner  with  you  and  me  on  Sunday. 
Grantham  sha'n't  keep  the  treasure  to  himself.  Funny, 
was  n't  it,  their  putting  him  between  two  such  pieces 
of  fashionable  still-life  as  Etta  and  her  friend  Miss 
What-d'ye-call-'em  ?  He  must  have  felt  like  an  eagle 
trying  to  keep  along  with  two  little  downy  chicks." 

"  Then  you  did  n't  notice  him  much,"  said  Miss 
Carnif  ex,  "  or  you  'd  have  seen  that  he  had  neither 
eyes  nor  ears  for  anything  but  one  of  the  downy 
chicks.  He  looked  at  Sybil  Gwynne  as  1 've  seen  little 
street-boys  gaze  at  Easter  images  in  a  confectioner's 
window." 

"Oh,  my  dear,  I  hope  not— I  hope  not,"  repeated 
Mr.  Carnifex. 

"Why  not,  father?" 

"  I  have  seen  that  happen  before." 

"  What— little  street-boys  looking  into  windows  ?  " 

"  Little  boys  getting  what  is  not  good  for  them,  and 
suffering  for  it  afterward." 

"What  a  horrid  allegory!"  cried  Agatha.  "And 
this  about  one  of  your  own  dear  Etta's  pet  associates. 
But  I  '11  go  no  further  in  that  direction.  I  '11  be  loyal 
as  Sybil  deserves.  I  think  she  is  lovely  enough  and 
refined  enough  to  turn  any  man's  head  who  can  ap 
preciate  her.  But  that  is  a  long  way  from  thinking 
she  would  fancy  Davenant.  They  say  Mrs.  Lewiston 
expects  her  to  marry  well  abroad.  An  old  English 


GOOD  AMERICANS  39 

name  and  estate,  with  a  lodge  and  a  gate-keeper,  and 
shooting-parties  every  year,  would  please  Sybil's  aunt, 
and  an  incidental  title,  if  Providence  wrere  kind." 

"  Then  let  her  catch  her  foreign  hare  and  cook  him," 
say  I.  "I  have  no  idea  of  one  of  our  large-brained, 
large-futured  men  tying  himself  to  the  flounce  of  a 
mere  doll  of  society." 

"  Now,  daddy,  I  have  hopes  of  you.  You  are  seeing 
the  folly  of  your  ways,  and  turning  aside  into  the 
right  path." 

"  It  is  simply  incalculable,  the  mischief  these  pretty 
little  pink-and- white  persons  do  when  they  are  turned 
loose  in  the  world.  A  glance,  a  smile,  a  talk  during 
the  courses  of  a  dinner,  and  the  man  is  made  or 
marred  for  life.  Women  are  the  very  deuce  of  an 
influence,  anyhow.  Sometimes  it  7s  the  mother  that 
warps  a  fellow's  career  •  of tener,  his  wife.  But,  as  a 
wise  man  once  said :  *  A  man's  mother  is  his  misfor 
tune,  his  wife  his  fault.' " 

"Daddy,  you  are  not  very  complimentary  to  our 
sex." 

"  You  are  one  in  a  hundred,  child ;  and  your  good 
sense  must  show  you  that  what  I  say  is  true.  What  7s 
the  matter  with  so  many  American  men  nowadays, 
that  makes  them  tear  and  strain  and  fret  to  get  money 
at  any  cost,  if  7t  is  not  the  chafing,  ambitious,  dis 
satisfied  women  behind  them,  urging  them  on  ? " 

The  carriage,  pulling  up  before  their  door,  brought 
his  outburst  to  a  sudden  close.  Agatha  knew  that  the 
fire  would  soon  burn  itself  out,  and  her  father  become 
his  gentle,  whimsical  self  again. 

But  she  wondered  if  what  he  had  said  were  true. 


40  GOOD  AMERICANS 

In  any  case,  she  was  very  glad  to  think  she  was  to 
see  Davenant  again  on  Sunday. 

MEANWHILE  Mrs.  Grantham,  having  bid  adieu  to  the 
last  of  her  guests,  was  anxiously  interrogating  her 
husband  as  to  the  success  of  the  evening. 

"  I  think  it  went  off  uncommonly  well,  don't  you  ? " 
she  said,  standing  beside  him,  where  he  had  dropped 
into  his  own  chair,  and  was  unfolding  the  evening 
paper  he  had  not  before  had  time  to  read. 

"  Yes,  very  well/'  he  said  abstractedly,  his  eye  hav 
ing  caught  a  leading  article  on  the  editorial  page. 
"  Hum  !  Scolding— as  usual." 

This,  as  Mrs.  Grantham  well  knew,  was  not  directed 
toward  herself,  but  to  the  powers  that  fling  printers' 
ink  against  their  enemies. 

"  Do  stop  reading  one  minute,  Mowbray.  Half  the 
fun  of  a  thing  is  talking  over  it  with  somebody  after 
ward.  I  really  want  your  candid  opinion  about  the 
dinner  and  everything." 

"  That  woman  of  yours  did  so  well  with  the  cooking, 
there  '11  be  no  excuse  for  future  deficiencies,"  he  said, 
now  retired  behind  a  double  barricade  of  printed 
columns. 

"You  stupid  Mowbray!— as  if  we  didn't  have  a 
Swedish  head  cook  in.  How  nice  you  were  to  Etta, 
dear  !  I  feel  as  if  I  could  never  thank  you  enough  for 
making  the  exertion—" 

Here,  feeling  herself  on  dangerous  ground,  she 
hastened  to  diverge. 

"  And  but  for  those  tiresome  Willoughbys  all  would 
have  gone  well.  I  am  resolved  never  again  to  dine 


GOOD  AMERICANS  41 

with  bores  that  we  must  have  in  return.  And,  for  a 
wonder,  that  big  lamp  with  the  pink  shade  did  n't 
smoke ;  I  w as  so  relieved.  Mowbray,  did  you  ever  see 
Katty  look  prettier  than  when  she  came  in  to-night 
from  the  fresh  air  ?  She  could  hold  her  own  by  Sybil 
G wynne  any  day,  I  think.  Well,  whatever  happens, 
at  last  I  have  brought  those  two  together.'7 

No  answer. 

"  Mowbray  !  I  say  at  last  I  have  brought  those  two 
together." 

"What  two?"  issued  in  an  abstracted  voice  from 
behind  the  newspaper. 

"  This  is  perfectly  tormenting,  the  way  you  make  a 
point  of  reading  all  the  time  I  talk  to  you.  Since  you 
are  not  interested,  perhaps  I  had  better  go  to  bed." 

"  I  think  so,  dear  j  it 's  very  late.  Good  night,"  said 
the  voice,  with  more  alacrity. 

"  See  if  I  tell  you  anything  again ! "  exclaimed  his 
wife,  getting  to  the  door,  ready  to  cry  with  vexation ; 
then,  rushing  back  like  a  whirlwind,  she  threw  both 
arms  around  his  neck  and  newspaper. 

"  Good  night,  you  darling !  I  am  sorry  I  was 
cross." 

"  To-morrow  you  will  tell  me  all  your  gossip,"  said 
Mr.  Grantham,  affectionately,  but  with  eyes  glued 
upon  a  paragraph  he  had  been  straightening  out  from 
the  literature  crushed  upon  his  knee. 


Ill 


AVENANT  thought  he  could  never 
pass  the  heavy  hours  intervening 
between  the  dinner  at  the  Granthams' 
and  his  next  meeting  with  Sybil. 

Since  prosperity  had  begun  to  dawn 
on  him,  he  had  exchanged  his  room  at 
a  boarding-house  for  a  tiny  suite  in  a  bachelor-apart 
ment  house.  His  sitting-room,  overflowing  with  books 
and  pipes,  possessed  a  couch,  book-shelves,  some  easy- 
chairs,  a  broad  table  with  an  electric  drop-light  under 
a  green  shade,  and  an  open  fireplace.  When  there  was 
no  longer  room  for  a  friend  to  sit  down,  by  reason  of 
the  accumulation  of  papers,  periodicals,  and  volumes, 
Peter  would  displace  these  from  the  chairs,  and  range 
them  in  toppling  piles  along  the  vacant  floor-spaces. 
His  inner  room,  containing  a  bed,  dressing-table,  wash- 
stand,  and  large  tin  tub,  was  otherwise  a  howling 
wilderness  of  boots  and  shoes.  But  this  home  had 
been  to  Davenant  till  now  a  very  sanctuary  of  pleas 
antness  and  peace,  away  from  the  bustling  multitude 
with  whom  his  days  were  spent.  Although  he  read 
far  less  of  general  literature  than  in  former  days,  it 
was  there,  ready  to  hand.  Often  he  would  take  down 
his  books,  blow  dust  from  the  tops,  handle  them  lov- 

42 


GOOD  AMERICANS  43 

ingly,  turn  the  leaves,  catch  a  familiar  page,  con  a  few 
lines  of  it,  then  put  the  tantalizing  treasures  back  in 
place,  cheered  by  their  presence,  and  feeling  as  if  he 
had  shaken  an  old  friend  by  the  hand.  Some  day— 
ah,  delicious  "  some  day  "  !—  he  would  take  time  to  re 
read  his  favorites,  and  to  read  some  of  the  new  books 
he  could  not  resist  buying,  although  he  had  little 
chance  to  know  more  of  them  than  their  bindings, 
print,  and  title-pages. 

There  were  pictures  on  the  walls,  chiefly  classic 
photographs  the  originals  of  which  he  fully  intended 
yet  to  enjoy ;  and  a  portrait  of  his  beautiful  Southern 
mother,  dressed  in  white  muslin,  and  wearing  her  dark 
hair  rolled  under  in  the  fashion  called  d  Vlmperatrice 
Eugenie.  She  had  been,  like  Davenant  himself,  of  the 
coloring  Fortuny  conferred  upon  his  "  Spanish  Lady," 
now  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum,  though  of  more 
regularly  beautiful  features  and  contour— a  famous 
New  Orleans  belle,  married  to  a  Carolinian  planter  of 
Huguenot  descent,  and  the  fortunes  of  both  had  gone 
under  in  the  crash  of  the  Confederacy.  Her  life  as  a 
widow,  her  death  in  pinching  poverty  before  Dave 
nant  was  able  to  fulfil  the  ambition  of  his  life  to  give 
her  the  semblance  of  a  comfortable  home,  were  sor 
rows  that  had  left  indelible  traces  on  his  heart.  Now 
he  had  only  himself  to  care  for.  He  never  went  back 
to  the  rice-fields  near  the  closed  mansion,  that  every 
year  clothed  themselves  anew  in  living  green ;  to  the 
groves  garlanded  with  flowers  and  alive  with  mock 
ing-birds.  He  did  not  even  mention  them. 

The  Saturday  evening  before  Davenant  was  to  re 
pair  to  the  opera  with  Sybil  and  his  new  patroness 


44  GOOD  AMERICANS 

found  him  seated  beside  his  table,  preparatory  to 
going  out  to  get  his  dinner  at  the  club.  The  book 
open  in  his  hand  was  a  copy  of  Theocritus,  a  singer 
whose  strains  he  had  not  wooed  in  ages.  As  his  eye 
rambled  over  the  lays  of  shepherds  chanting  the 
praises  of  their  fair,  a  smile  came  upon  his  lips. 

"  The  symptoms  have  not  changed  in  the  least  since 
the  beginning  of  the  third  century  before  Christ/7  he 
said  to  himself. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  The  janitor's  wife 
—a  very  fine  person  when  you  met  her  shopping  in 
Twenty-third  street,  with  her  fashionable  ruffled  cape, 
large  Gainsborough  hat,  and  diamond  ear-rings,  but 
here  less  imposing  in  the  simple  dishabille  of  a  calico 
wrapper,  over  which  she  wore  a  beaded  bolero  jacket 
—came  in.  Her  face  was  heated  with  conflict;  her 
eyes  flashed  scorn  and  incredulity  upon  an  object  she 
carried  in  both  hands.  It  was,  as  Davenant  at  once 
saw,  a  cast  of  the  "  Winged  Victory"  he  had  bought 
that  morning,  together  with  a  "  Venus  of  Melos,"  from 
a  vender  in  the  street,  and  had  ordered  to  be  delivered 
at  his  house. 

"  It 's  meself  brought  it  up  to  show  it  you,  Misther 
Davenant,"  cried  the  angry  dame.  "An'  the  other 
wan— though,  sure,  she  's  got  a  head  on  to  her,  barrin' 
the  arms— I  left  down  below  with  that  saucy  Eytalian. 
An'  he  pretendin'  he  did  n't  understand  a  word  of  me, 
an'  me  kapin'  on  tellin'  him  he  's  ch'atin'  you,  wantin' 
to  1'ave  his  damaged  images  an'  scoot  away.  t  Where 's 
the  head  ? '  says  I.  '  Did  you  break  it  af  ther  he  paid  for 
it  ? '  says  I.  *  Have  you  got  the  pieces  in  your  pocket, 
an'  not  the  conscience  to  give  'em  up?'  says  I—" 


GOOD  AMERICANS  45 

"  It 's  all  right,  Mrs.  O'Brien.  Fetch  up  the  <  Venus ' 
too,  and  let  the  fellow  go  in  peace.  You  see,  I  bought 
these  ladies  cheap  by  taking  them  l  as  is/  "  interposed 
Davenant,  to  stem  the  flowing  tide. 

When  he  had  put  the  two  figures  upon  the  top  of  a 
bookcase,  he  paused  before  them  in  reverence,  because 
She  had  admitted  having  done  so  before  the  originals. 
And  before  he  went  off  to  his  evening  meal,  in  closing 
Theocritus  his  eye  rested  upon  a  passage  in  the  "  Song 
of  the  Cyclops,"  from  which  he  tore  out  the  kernel,  as 
follows : 

But  to  leave  loving  thee,  maiden,  when  once  I  had  seen  thee, 
had  I  not  the  strength  .  .  .  even  from  that  hour. 

"  That  fits  me,  I  fear,"  he  laughed,  with  spring  bud 
ding  in  his  heart.  Little  he  cared  for  consequences. 
His  mood  was  in  tune  with  boyish  abandonment  to 
happiness.  Some  men,  espying  him  far  off  in  a  corner 
of  the  club  dining-room,  sitting  alone  at  his  table,  and 
coming  over  to  settle  down  upon  him  for  a  talk  about 
a  certain  political  appointment  of  their  party,  were 
astonished  at  his  vague  interest  in  the  affair.  They 
looked  at  his  brilliant  eye,  his  flushed  cheek,  and  won 
dered  if  he  were  about  to  go  under  with  a  physical 
malady.  But  Davenant,  scoffing  at  the  suggestion, 
declared  and  showed  himself  to  be  in  full  possession 
of  his  usual  splendid  health. 

"  Depend  on  it,  he 's  heard  of  another  piece  of  good 
luck  coming  to  him,"  said  one  to  the  other  afterward. 
"  That  fellow  wins  on  every  throw." 

Not  being  in  condition  to  adapt  himself  to  club 
society,  he  returned  to  his  writing-table,  where  an 


46  GOOD  AMERICANS 

unfinished  brief  awaited  Mm.  A  few  paragraphs 
written,  that  too  was  cast  aside.  He  went  to  the 
window  and  looked  up  into  a  firmament  of  deepest 
distances,  radiant  with  stars  and  star-dust.  Sallying 
forth  once  more,  he  walked  away  from  the  street 
wherein  arose  his  tall,  modern  domicile,  over  to  a 
broad  avenue,  which  he  followed  to  its  end. 

Facing  Washington  Square,  he  found  easily  the 
number  of  the  dwelling  he  had  sought  out  at  the  club, 
in  the  printed  register  of  chosen  names,  into  which 
he  had  as  yet  had  occasion  to  make  few  predatory 
excursions. 

It  was  one  of  a  row  of  staid  old  family  mansions 
that  make  of  their  vicinity  a  real  Faubourg  St.  Knick 
erbocker.  Their  broad  fronts  of  red  brick,  with  white- 
marble  steps  and  facings,  their  many-paned  windows 
and  prim  iron  railings,  the  immaculate  tone  of  their 
muslin  window-curtains,  contrast  pleasantly  with  the 
carved  stone  and  wrought-iron,  the  plate-glass  and  em 
broidered  laces,  of  the  house-facades  up-town. 

Having  identified  the  shrine  of  his  idol,  and  ob 
served  that  all  of  its  windows  were  demurely  veiled  in 
a  thin  white  stuff  drawn  close  against  the  inner  panes, 
Davenant  strolled  over  into  the  square  opposite,  where, 
sitting  at  one  end  of  a  bench  occupied  at  the  other  by 
a  bent  man  in  a  slouched  felt  hat,  who  was  enjoying 
an  evening  pipe,  he  could  keep  the  beloved  house  in 
view. 

A  little  farther  along  the  row,  a  large  dwelling,  with 
lights  behind  every  window  and  an  awning  run  out  to 
the  curbstone,  showed  that  an  evening  party  was  in 
progress.  By  and  by,  while  he  was  gazing  over  at 


GOOD  AMERICANS  47 

the  Lewiston  house,  Davenant  observed  that  its  heavy 
front  door  was  in  the  act  of  swinging  open.  His 
heart  beat  dangerously  fast,  yet  the  sensation  was  not 
unpleasant.  In  the  light  streaming  from  the  hall  he 
beheld  a  fat  man-servant  in  evening  clothes  waddle  out 
pompously  to  give  directions  to  a  footman  in  a  high 
hat  and  long  overcoat  who  arrived  from  the  nether 
regions  of  the  house.  Then  appeared  a  maid  carrying 
a  fan;  and  lastly  emerged  a  slight,  graceful  figure 
clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  a  long,  white-satin  cloak 
bordered  with  fluffy  fur,  the  train  of  whose  gown  the 
maid  lifted  as  the  wearer  began  to  descend  the  steps. 

The  "  spirit  in  his  feet "  carried  Davenant  so  rapidly 
across  the  space  of  roadway  and  sidewalks  interven 
ing  between  them,  that  when  he  came  up  with  the  lit 
tle  party,  Sybil  Gwynne,  attended  by  the  two  servants, 
was  but  just  turning  away  from  her  aunt's  door.  She 
started  in  genuine  surprise  at  thus  meeting  him. 

"  Mr.  Davenant !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You— you  were 
coming  here  ?  " 

Davenant,  although  no  master  of  the  art  of  cere 
mony,  knew  quite  well  that  he  had  not  the  conven 
tional  right  to  present  himself  at  Mrs.  Lewiston's 
without  an  indication  from  the  mistress  of  the  house 
that  his  visit  was  desired. 

"  No,"  he  said  straightforwardly ;  "  I  was  not  com 
ing  here." 

Sybil  laughed  like  a  child.  "  I  don't  know  whether 
I  like  you  to  be  so  candid.  It  leaves  me  in  the  attitude 
of  supposing  you  wished  to  see  me  again,  when,  per 
haps,  you  had  even  forgot  our  meeting  at  Mrs.  Grant- 
ham's." 


48  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"  I  did  not  dare  to  offer  a  visit  where  I  had  not  been 
asked/7  he  said ;  then  added  with  absolute  frankness, 
"  I  came  simply  to  look  at  the  outside  of  your  house." 

What  possessed  Sybil,  that,  at  this,  the  blood  ran 
up  to  her  cheeks  and  ears  and  temples?  She  was 
thankful  for  the  half-light  of  the  street. 

"  I  am  bound,  as  you  see,  to  a  party  in  our  neigh 
borhood,  so  near  that  I  had  n't  an  excuse  to  drive 
there,"  she  hastened  to  say,  at  the  same  time  moving 
on  in  the  direction  of  her  destination. 

"  Might  I  walk  there  with  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  of  course.  Then  you  are  going  to  Mrs.  Craw 
ford's  too?" 

"Unfortunately  not.  I  never,  indeed,  had  the  ad 
vantage  of  hearing  Mrs.  Crawford's  name  until  you 
mentioned  it." 

What  was  she  to  do  with  this  strange,  truth-telling, 
fervid  being,  striding  beside  her  as  if  he  wore  seven- 
league  boots,  and  turning  upon  her  a  look  of  such 
unqualified  delight  ?  In  all  Sybil's  experience  of  men, 
the  like  had  not  happened  to  her  before.  The  maid 
and  footman,  who  followed  discreetly,  saw  nothing 
out  of  the  way  in  the  rencounter  of  their  young  lady 
with  a  handsome  gentleman,  in  proper  evening  dress, 
who  had  been  passing  Mrs.  Lewiston's  door  as  she 
came  down  the  steps.  But  the  young  lady  herself,  all 
a-flutter  with  inward  excitement,  knew  better. 

"  There  is  n't  any  chance  you  are  going  to  dine  at 
the  Carnif exes'  to-morrow  f "  he  asked  appealingly,  as 
they  separated  a  little  group  of  street-gazers  in  order 
to  pass  under  Mrs.  Crawford's  awning. 

It  had  been  so  ridiculously  short,  their  walk  to- 


GOOD  AMERICANS  49 

gether,  and  yet  both,  in  the  brief  time,  had  felt  so 
much !  Sybil  was  aware  of  a  tremor  in  her  voice 
when  she  answered : 

"  No.     But  you  Ve  not  forgotten  Monday  ? " 

"  Forgotten  !  Why,  I  ;ve  thought  of  nothing  else. 
It  came  to  me  in  court  yesterday  when  I  got  up  to 
make  an  argument,  and  I  was  on  the  point  of  a  very 
bad  break.  Fortunately,  one  of  the  judges  was  sharp 
ening  a  lead-pencil,  and  another  was  reading  a  dinner 
invitation,  so  I  suppose  they  did  not  notice  ;  and  I 
rallied  soon." 

"  Absurd  !     Good  night,  then." 

But  she  did  not  really  consider  it  absurd.  Although 
this  was  their  second  meeting  only,  she  had  been 
thinking  of  him  almost  as  much  as  he  confessed  to 
having  thought  of  her. 

Davenant  had  no  excuse  to  linger  in  the  staring 
little  crowd  about  Mrs.  Crawford's  door.  Sybil,  run 
ning  up  the  steps  as  light  as  a  fairy,  vanished  from 
his  sight.  There  was  absolutely  nothing  to  live  for 
until  they  should  meet  again. 

It  was  characteristic  of  the  man  that  he  did  not 
consider  the  very  decided  probability  that  fate  would 
oppose  him  in  his  first  love-affair.  This  chance  meet 
ing,  his  being  alone  with  her  for  these  few  happy 
minutes  under  the  stars  and  gas-lamps,  feasting  his 
eyes  upon  her  beautiful  face  and  small,  shapely  head, 
her  young  form  in  its  drapery  of  glistening  white,  were 
all-sufficient  for  the  hour. 

It  was  too  much  to  hope  that  she  cared  as  he  did,  or 
at  all,  as  yet.  But  Davenant,  marching  away  up-town, 
vowed  that  she  soon  should  care.  He  would  win  her, 


50  GOOD  AMERICANS 

marry  her,  crown  his  life  with  her  dear  comradeship. 
Whatever  obstacles  were  between  them  should  melt 
before  the  intense  purpose  he  would  bring  to  bear 
upon  accomplishing  his  heart's  desire. 

ONE  of  the  few  indulgences  our  hero  had  given  him 
self  in  his  improved  financial  state  was  a  riding-horse. 
A  true  Southerner  in  his  love  of  the  saddle,  the  long 
intermission  in  his  exercise  had  been  a  deprivation  he 
was  glad  now  to  make  good.  At  rarer  intervals  than 
he  liked  he  got  off  to  visit  the  stable  near  the  park 
where  he  kept  his  steed,  and,  there  mounting,  spend 
several  hours  in  the  open. 

On  the  morning  after  this  unexpected  talk  with 
Sybil  he  fared  gaily  into  bright  winter  sunshine,  trav 
ersing  the  park,  and  pursuing  his  way  along  the  banks 
of  the  Hudson,  thence  into  the  interior,  for  a  long 
ride.  It  was  his  hope  thus  to  rid  himself  of  super 
abundant  vitality;  but  as  the  hours  progressed,  his 
spirits  seemed  to  him  inexhaustible.  It  was  as  if  he 
had  been  born  again.  All  of  life  before  him  was  a 
flower-garden,  without  a  blight  or  decay  in  any  plant 
of  its  parterres.  Never  had  it  occurred  to  him  there 
was  so  much  joyance  in  the  world.  From  a  looker- 
on  he  was  suddenly  transformed  into  a  participant. 
Everything  appeared  possible  that  he  desired.  The 
yearning  for  travel  he  had  so  long  kept  under  sprang 
up  full-fledged  and  confident.  With  her,  what  added 
joy  to  view  the  places  of  his  dreams !  She  should  be 
his  guide,  interpreter,  his  higher  and  finer  intelligence, 
in  all  these  matters.  Means  wherewithal,  the  sordid 
cares  of  life,  did  not  enter  into  these  pleasurable  specu- 


GOOD  AMERICANS  51 

lations  of  Mr.  Peter  Davenant.  He  was  strong  to  do 
all  that  man  had  done.  Under  her  inspiration  he 
would  be  expanded,  completed,  ready  for  everything 
required. 

Far  up  in  the  country  north  of  the  city  limits  he 
came  upon  a  wheelman  in  temporary  stress  of  circum 
stance.  Davenant,  who  exchanged  a  word  with  him, 
tarried,  struck  by  the  bonhomie  of  the  young  fellow's 
manner,  the  frank  look  of  his  wide-open  blue  eyes. 

"  I  am  overtaken  by  disaster/7  he  had  said  with  a 
laugh 5  "because  one  can't  attempt  pleasuring  near 
town  on  a  mild  Sunday  like  this  without  being 
crowded  out.  One  lot  of  loud-mouthed  revelers  set 
on  me,  surrounded  me,  assimilated  me.  I  freed  my 
self  of  them  only  at  the  last  road-house,  where  they 
halted  for  refreshment.  I  have  seen  most  of  the  na 
tions  on  the  move  to-day,  though  of  course  it 's  far 
worse  in  summer.  When  my  cordial  friends  stopped, 
I  fled— with  this  result." 

"  Our  brotherhood  of  citizens  is  certainly  not  en 
ticing  when  it  goes  abroad  on  such  a  Sunday  as  this," 
said  Davenant. 

"  The  plague  of  it  is,  the  same  people  would  be  in 
teresting  on  their  native  heath.  And  I  want  to  be 
interested.  It  is  n't  because  they  're  free  and  easy 
with  me  that  I  find  them  dull.  I  never  saw  anywhere 
a  class  attitude  more  independent  than  that  of  the  all- 
pervading  bourgeois  in  the  environs  of  Paris  on  the 
first  day  of  the  week.  Democratic  social  equality  is 
at  high- water  mark  there;  but  it  is  not  aggressive. 
It  does  not  stick  its  elbow  in  your  ribs,  tread  on  your 
toes  without  apology,  shout  and  hoot  its  consciousness 


52  GOOD  AMERICANS 

of  being  as  good  as  you  although  you  may  wear  bet 
ter  clothes." 

Davenant  laughed. 

"  For  so  many  years  I  've  known  nothing  else  than 
jostling  with  the  mob  of  commonplace,  I  suppose  I  'm 
hardened.  You,  I  take  it,  are  a  '  tenderfoot.' " 

"  I  suppose  I  am.  That  is,  I  have  had  the  bad  luck 
to  be  pitched  head  first  into  this  community,  to  make 
my  living  out  of  it,  with  the  training  of  an  idler  in 
foreign  countries." 

They  talked  for  a  while  longer,  then,  at  the  bicycler's 
suggestion,  agreed  to  rendezvous  for  luncheon  at  the 
roadside  hostelry  of  a  Frenchman  certified  to  be  ca 
pable  of  a  capital  omelette  aux  fines  herbes,  and  good  for 
a  decent  bottle  of  red  wine. 

"  If  you  go  there  in  summer,"  added  his  new  com 
rade,  "you  will  have  Baptiste,  with  his  napkin,  wav 
ing  you  into  an  arbor  made  of  withered  pine-branches 
overgrown  with  morning-glories  and  scarlet-runners, 
where  he  has  strewn  gravel  underfoot,  and  sets  out 
his  tables  with  red  claret-glasses  and  bunches  of  cheap 
flowers.  Now  we  shall  have  to  be  content  with  a 
small  inside  room,  if  we  are  lucky  enough  to  get  it  to 
ourselves." 

When  Davenant  reached  M.  Baptiste's  little  frame 
house,  standing  back  from  the  road  in  a  grove  of  trees, 
his  companion  had  already  ordered  the  luncheon  and 
secured  the  inside  room.  A  tiny  table,  spread  invit 
ingly,  awaited  them.  And  when  to  the  omelet  was 
added  a  dish  of  cutlets,  broiled,  not  fried,  with  pota 
toes  bursting  from  jackets  of  light  golden  brown,  to 
gether  with  good  bread,  a  plate  of  fruit,  and  the 


GOOD  AMERICANS  53 

promised  bottle  of  French  grape-juice,  Davenant  broke 
forth  rejoicingly : 

"I  have  passed  this  place  a  dozen  times,  and  never 
dreamed  of  the  treasure  it  contains." 

"I  have  developed  him,"  said  his  friend.  "Last 
year  I  found  Baptiste  struggling  with  the  popular 
demand  for  custard-pie  and  doughnuts.  I  talked  to 
him  in  his  native  tongue ;  adjured  him,  by  the  bones 
and  stew-pans  of  his  ancestors,  not  to  forget  their 
cunning  because  transplanted  to  a  land  of  far  away. 
He  has  made  quite  a  reputation  by  his  cabbage  farci 
aux  saudssons.  But  I  am  bound  to  confess  that  his 
American  dishes  are  as  bad  as  you  generally  find  them 
elsewhere." 

Starting  upon  this  substantial  basis  for  acquain 
tanceship,  the  two  men  fraternized  rapidly.  They 
talked  of  many  topics,  each  finding  in  the  other  a  cer 
tain  zest  of  surprise.  Davenant  had  never  met  any 
one  exactly  like  this  fair,  soft-voiced  fellow,  with  the 
manner  of  a  faineant  and  the  build  of  an  athlete, 
whose  talk  revealed  habits  and  thoughts  totally  un 
known  to  the  hard- worked  lawyer.  His  attitude  to 
ward  life  was  that  of  one  who,  not  being  able  to  help 
himself,  tries  to  make  the  best  of  his  regrettable  sur 
roundings.  Involuntarily,  Davenant  thought  of  a 
plant  he  had  taken  long  ago  from  his  mother's  con 
servatory  and  set  out  in  a  garden  dug  by  him  in  the 
woods.  The  plant  had  done  its  best  to  live,  but  could 
not  flourish. 

When  the  time  came  for  them  to  share  the  score 
and  part,  they  shook  hands  heartily.  When  the  bicy 
clist  was  out  of  sight  ahead  of  him  on  the  return  to 


54  GOOD  AMERICANS 

town,  Davenant  remembered  they  had  not  exchanged 
names. 

THAT  evening,  on  presenting  himself  at  the  house  of 
Mr.  Carnif ex,  to  receive  a  warm  welcome  from  the  host 
and  a  quieter  one  from  the  young  hostess,  the  three 
sat  for  a  while  about  a  wood  fire  in  a  dimly  lighted 
drawing-room  before  dinner  was  announced. 

There  was  little  in  this  room  to  suggest  the  femi 
ninity  of  its  presiding  genius.  No  triplication  of  cur 
tains  at  the  windows,  no  portieres,  no  little  tables 
perilously  full  of  silver  or  china  toys;  above  all,  no 
cushions,  which,  however  much  they  add  to  the  luxu 
rious  repose  of  modern  life,  induce  as  much  disturb 
ance—first,  because  of  their  bad  habit  of  slipping 
away  from  the  angles  of  the  human  frame  where  they 
are  designed  to  be ;  and,  secondly,  because  under  no 
circumstances  will  a  housekeeper  admit  that  she  has 
enough  of  them. 

The  friends  of  Mr.  and  Miss  Carnif ex  were  asked  to 
take  their  ease  in  chairs  or  on  couches  covered  in  a 
dark  silken  stuff  that  had  not  been  changed  in  years. 
A  grand  piano,  a  writing-table  solidly  equipped,  and 
some  healthy-looking  palms  and  ferns  growing  in  jars 
in  the  windows,  gave  the  chief  evidence  of  a  woman's 
rule  there.  Upon  the  Quakerish  background  of  drab- 
painted  walls  hung  some  good  pictures.  A  cabinet, 
and  the  mantelpiece  crowded  with  Chinese  porcelains 
of  beauty  and  value,  represented  the  host's  fancy  in 
art.  The  room,  in  fine,  while  not  in  the  least  "  pretty  " 
according  to  the  canons  of  modern  decoration,  ap 
peared  to  represent  a  leisurely  lifetime  that  had 


GOOD  AMERICANS  55 

treated  itself  to  a  few  good  things  and  let  the  rest 
alone.  The  guest  now  enjoying  its  repose  knew  no 
consciousness  of  fleeting  moments  until  Mr.  Carnifex, 
crossing  the  room,  tugged  at  a  faded  bell-pull  wrought 
in  worsted- work. 

"  Dinner,"  he  said  to  the  man  who  answered.  "  We 
will  wait  no  longer,  dear,  for  Ainslie,"  he  added  to  his 
daughter. 

Simultaneously  the  door  into  the  hall  gave  admis 
sion  to  Davenant's  bicyclist  of  the  morning.  Both 
men  looked  pleased  and  surprised. 

"  Then  I  need  not  introduce  you  ?  "  said  Mr.  Carni 
fex. 

"  Only  to  give  us  names,"  answered  the  newcomer, 
after  he  had  made  easy  apologies  to  Miss  Carnifex  for 
his  delay.  "  I  at  least  have  been  dying  to  know  his." 

The  story  of  their  meeting  and  impromptu  luncheon 
broke  the  ice  of  the  first  moments  at  table  in  a  large, 
bare  refectory,  where  conspicuous  objects  were  the 
coal-hod,  an  old-fashioned  dinner-tray,  and  a  series  of 
Copley  and  St.  Memin  portraits  on  the  walls. 

The  service  of  Canton-blue  porcelain,  with  the  fid 
dle-patterned  silver  spoons  and  forks,  dimly  recalled 
to  Davenant  an  old  house  in  Charleston  where,  as  a 
lad,  he  was  urged  to  two  helpings  of  everything,— 
where  the  maiden  hostess  wore  "  sausage-puffs  "  under 
her  cap,— and  where  his  youthful  imagination  was 
intoxicated  by  the  varieties  of  sweet  pickles  strung 
about  the  board  in  leaf-shaped  dishes  of  the  same 
azure  tint. 

The  dinner  was  good,  the  wines  better,  the  host  de 
lightful.  Agatha,  who  talked  little,  made  herself  most 


56  GOOD  AMERICANS 

agreeable.  When,  afterward,  Davenant  asked  a  girl 
why  she  had  called  Miss  Carnifex  "a  man's  woman," 
he  received  this  answer : 

"  Oh,  because  she  makes  it  a  point  to  let  men  have 
their  way,  beginning  with  that  nice  old  tyrant,  her 
papa." 

The  truth  was,  Agatha  possessed  so  wide  a  scope  in 
her  father's  house  that  she  had  never  felt  able  to  con 
template  leaving  it  for  another  man's.  Peter  had  not 
been  with  them  ten  minutes  before  discovering  that 
on  all  practical  matters  she  ruled  her  parent  with  a 
humorous  assumption  of  greater  age  and  knowledge 
than  his  own,  although  letting  him  go  under  loose  rein 
whenever  his  hobbies  were  concerned. 

At  twenty-six  she  esteemed  herself  an  old  maid ;  and 
the  repose  which  the  abandonment  of  concern  on  the 
marriage  question  gave  to  her  manner  induced  many 
men  to  confide  in  her  their  affairs  with  other  women. 
Hamilton  Ainslie,  for  example,  a  cousin  in  the  third 
or  fourth  degree,  had  told  her  about  his  passion  for 
Sybil  Gwynne  almost  as  soon  as  that  emotion  had 
gained  a  recognized  place  in  his  manly  bosom. 

When  Ainslie  had  come  back  from  Europe  to  live 
in  New  York,  Agatha  had  decided  upon  making  him 
her  "  mission."  She  considered  him  as  one  more 
sinned  against  than  sinning,  a  product  of  the  modern 
custom  of  absenteeism  among  Americans  who  live 
abroad  and  bring  up  their  children  in  alien  fashions. 
She  had  an  idea  she  could  do  him  good,  rouse  his 
dormant  patriotism,  make  him  throw  off  the  sloth 
resulting  from  having  been  a  citizen  of  the  world 
when  he  ought  to  have  been  a  citizen  of  the  nursery. 


GOOD  AMERICANS  67 

Ainslie  liked  her  lectures,  her  down-setting  way 
with  him,  her  assumption  of  extreme  old  age  and 
matronly  dignit}r  with  a  man  who  was  her  senior  by 
two  years.  He  treated  her  with  courtesy  and  perfect 
good  humor.  His  only  grudge  against  her  was  that 
she  could  not  be  brought  to  concede  that  Sybil  Gwynne 
was  born  into  the  world  to  make  a  helpmate  for  him. 

"  My  dear  Hamilton,  you  would  be  a  pair  of  babes 
in  the  wood,"  she  had  said  six  months  before,  knitting 
her  forehead  and  throwing  from  it  a  little  lock  wont 
to  escape  and  confer  upon  her  handsome,  serious  face 
a  mutinous  expression  not  displeasing  to  the  eye. 
"  Promise  me  that  you  will  not  commit  yourself  until 
you  have  thought  over  it  a  year." 

"  I  may  as  well  promise,"  he  had  said.  "  In  the  first 
place,  she  does  not  yet  see  the  thing  in  the  light  I  do. 
In  the  next,  between  us  we  could  n't  afford  any  kind 
of  house  or  trap,  or  amusements  or  travels,  such  as  the 
girls  of  her  set  think  indispensable." 

"  What  do  men  of  your  set  think  about  them  ? " 

"  We  don't  think,"  said  Ainslie.  "  The  times  are  too 
hard  upon  us.  We  simply  drift." 

The  talk  at  Mr.  Carnif  ex's  table  to-night  gave  Dave- 
nant  a  fresh  sense  of  the  pleasure  to  be  had  from  rub 
bing  wits  and  exchanging  views  with  people  of  his 
own  kind.  Mr.  Carnif  ex  and  his  daughter  would  have 
meant  so  much  to  him  had  he  only  been  able  to  claim 
their  acquaintance  during  the  dull  evenings  of  the 
working-years  past !  And  Ainslie,  despite  his  light 
touch  of  and  mocking  indifference  to  real  things,  had 
stuff  in  him  undoubtedly. 

Agatha's  only  fear,  that  her  father  would  bring  the 


58  GOOD  AMERICANS 

conversation  around  to  the  folly  of  a  young  man  of 
ambition  and  parts  fixing  his  fancy  on  a  girl  of  fash 
ionable  life,  was  set  at  rest.  Women  entered  in  no 
shape  into  the  evening's  discussion. 

When  the  visitors  took  leave,  they  walked  together 
as  far  as  the  street  where  Davenant  turned  off. 

"  Good  night,"  he  said.  "  I  have  to  thank  you  for 
a  very  jolly  day.  What  fun  it  would  be,  now,  were  I 
to  meet  you— by  Jove !  I  am  to  meet  you,  for  Mrs. 
Stanley  said  you  are  coming— to-morrow  night." 

"  Of  course  I  am  coming,"  answered  Ainslie,  lightly. 
"  Do  not  we  all  fly  at  Mrs.  Stanley's  bidding  ? " 

At  this  point  Davenant  was  guilty  of  a  weakness. 
He  wished  to  speak  aloud  a  name  that  had  haunted 
his  brain-cells  persistently. 

"  I  believe  it  's  to  be  a  small  party  like  to-night's  ?— 
nobody  besides  our  hostess,  except  Miss  Gwynne  and 
you  and  me." 

"  Miss  Gwynne  and  you  and  me,"  repeated  Ainslie, 
assentingly ;  and  the  pair  separated. 


IV 


ATENANT  was  taking  off  his  overcoat 
in  custody  of  two  or  three  of  Mrs. 
Stanley's  liveried  appendages,  when 
the  grille  that  served  as  a  portal  to 
her  spacious  vestibule  opened  to  ad 
mit  Ainslie,  as  usual  on  the  run  and 
a  little  out  of  breath. 

"  Those  hanged  cable-cars  !  "  he  said.  "  Nice  way  for 
a  man  to  come  out  to  dinner,  is  n't  it  ?  I  started  right 
enough,  standing  on  my  feet,  wedged  in  by  a  jam ;  but 
gradually  the  crowd  increased  till  I  was  squeezed  up 
ward,  and  I  ended  by  crawling  out  over  their  shoul 
ders.  As  I  left  I  heard  an  Irishman,  who  had  been  for 
a  long  time  hanging  on  to  a  strap,  cry  out  to  the  rest 
of  'em,  '  Be  jabers !  have  n't  any  of  yez  homes  ? ' r 

A  very  young  flunky,  who  was  depositing  Mr.  Ains- 
lie's  stick  in  a  porcelain  jar,  smiled  at  this  with  sym 
pathetic  understanding. 

"  What  a  contrast  between  that  mob  and  this  kind 
of  thing  !  "  said  Ainslie,  as,  assured  that  their  hostess 
would  be  down-stairs  in  a  minute,  they  were  ushered 
into  an  empty  room  of  state.  "  I  know  her  minutes," 
Ainslie  added ;  "we  might  as  well  t take  it  easy '  till 
we  see  her." 

59 


60  GOOD  AMERICANS 

He  deposited  himself  comfortably  in  the  corner  of 
a  deep,  elastic  sofa,  shaded  from  the  fire  on  one  side 
by  a  plate-glass  screen,  and  from  a  lamp  on  the  other 
by  a  mass  of  spiky  ferns. 

Davenant,  standing,  his  back  to  the  blaze,  looked 
about  him  with  interest.  The  scheme  of  the  room 
was  old  French,  the  fittings  in  pale  brocades  and  gilt, 
superbly  carried  out  by  masters  of  their  craft. 
Throughout,  the  taste  was  unimpeachable.  A  pow 
dered  marquise  of  the  ancient  regime  might  here  have 
received  courtiers  and  cardinals  in  high-heeled  shoes. 

But  there  was  no  mistress  to  complete  it.  The  next 
arrival  was  an  attache  of  one  of  the  foreign  embassies 
at  Washington,  a  swart  man  with  beady  black  eyes, 
and  black  hair  cut  short  and  standing  stiff  upon  his 
head.  He  was  adorned  with  turquoise  studs  sur 
rounded  by  diamonds,  and  stood  shivering  on  the  rug, 
complaining  of  the  chill  of  the  New  York  climate. 

After  another  interval,  Mr.  Cleve  appeared.  The 
little  gentleman  had  dressed  hurriedly,  for  the  bow  of 
his  necktie  had  worked  around  under  one  ear,  and  the 
lining  of  a  pocket  was  displayed  upon  the  tail  of  his 
coat. 

"  Knew  it  was  no  earthly  use  to  be  here  when  she 
asked  me,"  he  exclaimed,  cheerfully  submitting  to 
Ainslie's  repair  of  his  disheveled  toilet.  "  For  heaven's 
sake,  Ainslie,  lend  me  a  handkerchief— I  've  dropped 
mine  putting  it  in  my  pocket  j  or  I  11  go  send  one  of 
those  fellows  outside  up  to  Jack's  dressing-room  to  get 
me  one  of  his.  Thanks.  A  man  should  always  carry 
two.  Heard  the  last  Boston  story,  about  that  electri 
cal  chap  showing  off  his  bath-tub  ? " 


GOOD  AMERICANS  61 

"  Try  another,  Cleve,"  said  Ainslie,  lazily.  "  Every 
body  's  heard  that." 

"Well,  then,  what  do  you  say  to  Mark  Twain's 
speech  before  a  girls'  college  the  other  day  ?— when  he 
remarked  his  ambition  is  to  be  a  professor— of  telling 
anecdotes  ? " 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Ainslie,  mysteriously.  "  On  no  ac 
count  divulge  that  here  !  " 

"  Eh  !  why  not  ?  "  asked  Cleve,  much  rattled.  "  By 
Jove,  Ainslie,  you  startled  me !  I  believe  you  just 
want  to  run  me  off  the  track !  " 

u  My  dear  man,  this  is  hardly  the  hour  for  humor 
ous  narration,"  said  Ainslie.  "  For  my  own  part,  I  am 
starving;  I  had  nothing  for  luncheon  to-day  but  six 
raw  oysters,  eaten  while  standing  before  a  counter. 
There  is  within  me  a  gnawing  void  that  stories  only 
irritate  and  do  not  fill.  If  our  hostess  does  not  soon 
show  up,  I  shall  go  and  beg  for  a  biscuit  in  the 
pantry." 

The  arrival  of  Miss  Grwynne,  looking  so  crisply 
beautiful  and  unruffled  that  the  hearts  of  two  men 
leaped  up  within  them  at  sight  of  her,  was  the  prelude 
for  Mrs.  Stanley's  descent  like  an  empress  among  her 
guests. 

Davenant,  who  led  the  way  with  her  across  a  wide 
marble  hall  into  a  tapestried  dining-room,  discerned 
that  it  was  their  matron's  fancy  to  single  him  out  to 
night  for  special  favor.  He  envied  old  Cleve,  upon 
whose  cork-screwed  coat-sleeve  Sybil's  hand  rested, 
Ainslie  and  the  diplomat  bringing  up  the  rear.  What 
a  bore  it  was  going  to  be  to  dance  attendance  all  the 
evening  upon  an  oldish  woman's  coquetries !  (That 


62  GOOD  AMERICANS 

phrase  alone,  as  it  became  formulated  in  Davenant's 
mind,  bewrayed  him  as  an  outsider  to  fashion.) 

It  was  not  until  they  were  in  Mrs.  Stanley's  landau 
on  the  way  to  the  opera-house— the  two  young  men 
following  in  a  cab— that  he  had  a  moment's  speech 
with  Sybil. 

"Did  you  enjoy  the  Crawfords?"  was  all  he  could 
think  of  to  relieve  his  overflowing  soul. 

"Yes— no— I  really  forget,"  said  she,  laughing. 
"  One  does  not  remember  a  party  two  or  three  days  old. 
I  suppose  it  was  like  all  the  rest.  You  know  how 
exactly  they  are  alike." 

"  I  have  never  been  to  a  l  function '  in  town,"  he  said 
simply— "  at  least  of  your  kind.  I  suppose  I  might 
have  done  so  had  I  not  been  too  busy  and  too  indif 
ferent—till  now." 

"Now  we  are  bringing  you  out,"  she  said  gleefully. 
"  We  shall  conquer,  never  fear." 

"  I  hope  not.  It  would  be  a  sad  interruption  to  my 
pursuits.  But  I  shall  be  deeply  grateful  for  any 
crumbs  you  may  choose  to  throw  me  of  your  com 
panionship." 

"  My  aunt  has  an  afternoon  affair  soon,  and  I  asked 
her  to  send  you  a  card  that  you  '11  get  to-morrow.  It 's 
a  musicale,  and  there  '11  be  men  dropping  in  as  late  as 
seven." 

"An  afternoon  affair,"  thought  he,  remembering 
his  recent  scorn  of  such  methods  of  reunion.  But  he 
was  now  wise  enough  to  know  that  this  meant  an 
opening  of  the  door  to  him,  behind  which  was  to  be 
found  the  chief  delight  of  life— and  so  accepted  the 
invitation. 


GOOD  AMERICANS  63 

The  opera,  which  he  had  never  seen  from  one  of  the 
parterre  boxes,  having  for  many  seasons  frequented  it 
in  the  parquet  stalls  or  galleries,  might  have  been  a 
dumb-show,  except  during  those  numbers  when  the 
famous  singers  occupied  the  stage.  Then,  only,  the 
people  about  him  stopped  talking;  the  young  men 
ceased  to  go  and  come,  and  bestow  little  squeezes  of 
the  hand  in  greeting  and  saying  good-by  to  the  ladies 
in  the  boxes  j  the  whole  vast  assemblage  focused  its 
attention  upon  the  greatest  artists  of  the  age.  During 
these  thrilling  intervals  Davenant  felt  the  charm  of 
vicinity  to  Sybil.  Jostled  to  the  rear  by  succeeding 
callers,  he  stood  in  the  shadow,  looking  at  the  back  of 
her  graceful  head  and  neck,  and  investing  her  with  all 
the  fantastic  attributes  of  a  lover's  imaginings.  Or 
else,  wandering  to  some  distant  part  of  the  house,  he 
would  enjoy  her  beauty  from  another  point  of  view. 

Ainslie,  on  the  contrary,  after  hanging  his  hat  and 
coat  in  the  antechamber  of  the  Stanleys'  box,  resorted 
with  great  diligence  to  calling  upon  his  friends,  ap 
pearing  in  turn  in  most  of  the  boxes  of  the  horseshoe, 
where  he  was  well  received,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  him 
self  with  impartiality. 

Once  Mr.  Cleve,  who  had  been  peppering  his  stories 
around  the  half-circle,  came  upon  Davenant  stalking 
about  the  lobby  in  solitary  state. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  stop  with  me,  and  let  us  have  two 
whiffs  of  a  cigarette,"  said  Cleve,  benignantly.  "If 
we  join  any  of  those  club  gossips  who  are  out  here,  we 
shall  be  talked  to  death ;  they  are  the  most  untiring 
fishers  for  scandal.  And,  do  you  know,  I  find  it  sim 
ply  disgusting  the  way  these  millionaire  stock-holders 


64  GOOD  AMERICANS 

put  their  heads  together  and  speak  about  nothing  but 
their  schemes  for  amusing  themselves." 

"What  are  they  to  do?  Their  wealth  handicaps 
them  for  politics.  They  have  no  excuse  to  work.  To 
my  mind,  their  Monte  Cristo  business  is  very  pictur 
esque." 

"  Don't  mistake  me.  I  'm  not  envious.  So  long  as 
I  get  asked  to  their  banquets,  sail  on  their  yachts, 
enjoy  their  operas,  or  make  trips  in  their  private  cars, 
I  'm  quite  comfortable,  personally.  But  one  feels  op 
pressed  by  segregated  fortunes.  Look  at  these  four 
chaps  next  us,  for  example.  Fancy  what  their  united 
incomes  represent !  It 's  fatiguing,  I  tell  you.  It  robs 
the  rest  of  us  of  ambition  to  make  moderate  incomes 
for  ourselves.  It  's  produced  the  dreadful  discontent 
of  modern  good  society.  Why,  man,  in  all  the  boxes 
where  I  've  called  to-night,  I  can  hardly  say  I  've  seen 
one  happy  woman— one  of  the  nice,  jolly,  restful  kind 
of  matrons,  I  mean,  who  can  laugh  outright,  and 
enjoy  fun,  and  speak  naturally.  Most  of  'em  are 
keeping  watch  on  the  others,  to  see  they  don't  get 
ahead  in  the  social  race.  If  you  want  to  see  what  I 
mean,  just  look  at  the  difference  in  the  women's  faces 
when  the  house  is  quiet." 

Davenant,  guiltily  aware  of  having  looked  at  but 
one  woman's  face,  could  not,  for  the  life  of  him,  feel 
depressed  by  Mr.  Cleve's  jeremiads. 

"  The  worst  of  it  is  the  effect  it  has  upon  the  young 
'uns,"  went  on  Cleve.  "The  debutantes,  like  their 
mamas,  are  calculating  how  to  keep  along  with  the 
richest,  most  extravagant  set  in  town.  Nothing  else 
seems  to  them  worth  living  for.  To  see  some  of  those 


GOOD  AMERICANS  65 

little  rosy  young  faces  kindle  with  scheming  or  un 
satisfied  longing  makes  me  sick,  I  tell  you.  As  to  the 
young  men,  the  whole  lot  of  'em,  from  club  loungers 
to  fellows  that  have  just  left  college,  are  deliberately 
and  confessedly  t  on  the  make.'  They  won't  waste 
themselves  on  girls  whose  mothers  can't  entertain  'em 
at  dinner,  or  send  'em  ball-tickets,  or  give  'em  places 
at  the  opera.  If  the  directors  here  wanted  an  emblem 
of  high  society  to  adorn  the  opera-house,  they  could  n't 
have  done  better,  in  my  opinion,  than  set  up  yonder, 
over  the  proscenium  arch,  the  image  of  a  golden  calf." 

"  And  yet  you—"  began  Davenant,  laughing. 

"I  am  of  'high  society'— certainly ;  but  at  least  I 
pay  my  way  by  courtesy  and  civility  and  helping  to 
make  things  go.  Do  you  know  why  I  like  to  put  in  a 
month  in  England  every  summer  ?  Because  there  the 
greater  the  lady,  the  more  unpretending  she  is.  And 
if  they  love  and  covet  wealth  and  place  just  as  much 
as  we  do  over  here,  they  keep  their  longings  in  the 
background  of  every-day  conversation.  I  went  down 
this  morning,  by  the  way,  and  booked  to  sail  in  May 
in  Teutonic." 

"  Lucky  mortal !  "  said  Davenant. 

Although  he  affected  to  pooh-pooh  them,  Cleve's 
sharp  strictures  had  begun  to  exert  upon  him  a  sub 
duing  influence.  They  made  him  realize  the  distance 
between  Sybil  and  a  brain-worker  who  could  never 
hope  to  offer  her  any  of  these  requisites  of  her  set. 
Until  now  he  had  been  overcome  by  the  dazzling  sug 
gestions  of  his  hope  that  she  might  grow  to  care  for 
him.  Such  homes  as  those  of  Mrs.  Grantham  and 
Mr.  Carnifex  had  not  seemed  to  him  impossible  of 


66  GOOD  AMERICANS 

realization.  The  sumptuous  domicile  of  Mrs.  Stanley 
had  affected  him  as  merely  one  of  the  side-shows  of 
modern  plutocracy.  The  interior  in  which  a  man  of 
moderate  success  in  a  professional  career  may  hope  to 
install  the  wife  he  loves  was  all-sufficient  for  Dave- 
nant's  ambitions.  But  now  that  it  appeared  Mrs. 
Stanley's  belongings  were  the  standard,  where  was  he 
in  the  race  ? 

As  he  approached  the  box  at  the  beginning  of  the 
last  act,  Ainslie,  in  high  good  humor,  had  but  just 
come  out  of  it. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  "it  is  as  well  you  are 
going  back.  Our  hostess  is  in  the  sulks.  She  thinks 
you  have  ignored  her  charms." 

"  But  I  was  pushed  out  of  my  place,"  said  Davenant, 
"  by  all  that  swarm  of  men." 

"  You  should  have  held  it,  and  let  the  whole  house 
see  you  had  eyes  only  for  her." 

"  Why  in  the  deuce  did  n't  you  tell  me  ? " 

"Because,  at  the  rate  you  were  swimming  along 
with  all  these  women,— Mrs.  Stanley,  Miss  Carnifex, 
and  Miss  Gwynne  swearing  by  you,— I  thought  you 
were  an  old  hand.  Never  mind ;  there  is  time  enough 
to  redeem  yourself.  She  has  got  only  the  attache  now, 
who  bores  her ;  while  Miss  Gwynne  has  her  string  full 
of  men.  Go  and  swell  Mrs.  Stanley's  number,  and  all 
may  yet  be  well." 

"Otherwise?" 

"  You  will  be  forgotten  before  the  next  opera  night." 

"  I  wonder  Miss  Gwynne  is  friends  with  that  sort  of 
a  purposeless  vagrant,"  said  Davenant,  irrepressibly. 

"  Miss  Gwynne  knows  nothing  better.  Miss  Gwynne, 


GOOD  AMERICANS  67 

taken  out  of  these  surroundings,  would  be  completely 
at  a  loss.  Miss  Gwynne  is  intended  to  grace  such  an 
establishment  as  that  we  dined  in  to-night— to  lead 
just  such  a  life  as  her  friend  Mrs.  Stanley." 

"  Heaven  forbid ! "  exclaimed  Davenant,  with 
warmth. 

Something  in  the  glow  of  his  honest  face  warned 
Ainslie,  who,  stopping  short,  looked  at  him  again. 

"  Don't,  my  dear  fellow,  don't !  "  he  said  briefly,  with 
a  sort  of  tightening  about  his  mobile  lips. 

Davenant  understood. 

As  they  opened  the  box  door  it  became  apparent 
that  Mrs.  Stanley  had  a  new  visitor  in  the  person  of 
a  man  well  on  in  years,  smooth-shaven  and  intelligent- 
looking,  his  features  marked  with  a  thousand  lines  of 
care. 

"  Surely  that  is  Mr.  Mortimer,"  said  Davenant,  who 
saw  only  the  back  hair  of  a  celebrated  capitalist. 

"  '  Incarnate  electricity/  they  call  him/7  said  Ainslie. 
"  Only  death  will  arrest  his  progress,  though  quite  a 
number  of  fair  ladies  have  tried  to  do  so." 

"  I  know  him  well,"  said  Davenant. 

His  enormous  success  in  affairs,  his  boundless 
popularity  with  the  New  York  public,  his  vast  inter 
ests  in  railroads  networked  over  this  continent  and  in 
other  countries,  made  of  this  individual  a  power  not 
to  be  overlooked.  His  face  had  been  so  variously 
reproduced  for  the  benefit  of  his  fellow-citizens  that 
there  was  left  for  it  only  the  immortality  of  a  postage- 
stamp.  When  Davenant  resumed  his  seat  behind  his 
hostess,  she  was  saying  in  a  wondering  tone  to  Mr. 
Mortimer : 


68  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"  But  at  five  o'clock  you  were  in  Albany  !  " 

"  When  I  received  your  telephone  message  to  dine 
with  you  and  Miss  Gwynne  to-night— repeated  to  me 
from  home— I  was ;  but  at  6 :  23  exactly  I  left  the 
Albany  station  in  a  special  consisting  of  my  own  car, 
a  common  coach  for  ballast,  and  the  best  of  the  new 
engines.  At  the  end  of  two  hours,  thirty-six  minutes, 
and  nine  seconds  we  ran  into  the  Grand  Central— too 
late  to  dine  with  you,  but  not  too  late,  I  trust,  to  pre 
sent  my  compliments  to  the  ladies." 

"  What  gallantry  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Stanley.  "  It  is 
too  bad  I  never  can  think  of  asking  people  till  so 
late." 

Davenant  saw  that,  although  Sybil  heard  it,  she  did 
not  honor  Mr.  Mortimer's  flattering  announcement  by 
turning  around.  He  also  perceived  that  the  great 
man  bestowed  in  vain  several  pathetically  anxious 
glances  upon  Sybil's  profile. 

This  revelation,  coupled  with  what  a  flash  had  re 
vealed  to  him  about  Ainslie,  could  not  be  said  to 
surprise  Davenant.  According  to  his  way  of  think 
ing,  it  would  have  been  natural  had  half  the  men  in 
the  opera-house  experienced  the  same  sweet  pain. 
But  when,  after  a  few  words  with  Mrs.  Stanley,  he 
gained  possession  of  the  chair  behind  Sybil,  all  the 
doubts,  fears,  revelations  of  the  last  hours  since  he 
had  ventured  into  this  her  kingdom,  fell  away.  Again 
he  was  possessed  by  the  overpowering  belief  that  it 
was  he,  and  none  other,  who  should  assert  his  claim 
upon  her  and  win  her  love.  That  accomplished,  how 
was  it  possible  for  anything  else  to  matter  ? 

"  You  know  Mr.  Davenant  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Stanley  of 


GOOD  AMERICANS  69 

Mr.  Mortimer,  having  seen  a  friendly  nod  exchanged 
between  them. 

"Yes;  but  I  thought  he  was  a  misogynist,  or  at 
least  a  fashion-hater.  I  have  never  before  seen  him  in 
society.  He  is  a  man  of  strong  character  •  aggressive, 
but  always  polite ;  a  hard  hitter,  a  fearless  adversary, 
of  intense  conviction  and  persistence— 

"  Dear  me  !  "  interrupted  the  lady.  "  I  was  begin 
ning  to  think  there  is  nothing  in  him  at  all." 

"I  must  go  now,"  said  Mr.  Mortimer,  rising.  "A 
look  in  at  the  club,  where  I  arranged  to  meet  some 
men  ;  then  home,  to  spend  half  the  night  at  work  with 
my  stenographer.  There  will  be  a  reporter  sitting  on 
my  door-step,  another  in  the  hall,  and  a  third  at  the 
keyhole  of  my  study.  Good-by,  and  ask  me  to  dinner 
again  when  I  am  not  in  Albany." 

As  he  left  the  box,  Miss  Gwynne,  forsaking  her  talk 
with  Davenant,  bestowed  upon  the  man  of  affairs  the 
tips  of  her  white-gloved  fingers.  Mr.  Mortimer, 
hesitating  for  a  moment  as  if  he  would  say  something 
he  could  not  exactly  put  into  words,  bowed,  smiled, 
and  withdrew. 

"  My  dear,  you  are  stony-hearted,"  said  Mrs.  Stan 
ley,  hardly  waiting  till  their  distinguished  visitor  was 
out  of  hearing.  "  If  you  but  said  the  word,  you  'd 
have  man,  fortune,  railroads,  engines,  newspapers, 
and  reporters— all  at  your  feet." 

"I  had  as  soon  live  with  my  ear  to  a  telephone," 
said  Sybil,  curling  her  lip,  "or  in  the  engine-room  of 
a  ship." 

"  Ah,  no,"  an  audacious  listener  thought  to  himself  ; 
"there  is  something  better  in  store  for  her  than  an 


70  GOOD  AMERICANS 

old  man's  infatuation.  I  am  going  to  make  her  life 
glorious  with  my  love." 

DAVENANT  no  sooner  made  acquaintance  with  Sybil's 
natural  protector,  than  he  divined  that  lady's  antago 
nism  toward  him.  No  doubt  Mrs.  Stanley  had  in 
formed  Mrs.  Lewiston  of  the  undisguised  emotion 
Sybil  had  aroused  in  him  on  the  two  known  occasions 
of  their  meeting.  Sybil  had  taken  care  to  say  nothing 
to  any  one  of  that  brief  interview  in  the  street  the 
night  of  Mrs.  Crawford's  ball,  the  memory  of  which 
excited  her  more  than  she  liked  to  admit  to  herself. 

Mrs.  St.  Clair  Lewiston  was  a  high-nosed  dame  with 
a  roseate  countenance,  a  belle  of  the  fifties,  whose 
figure  still  gave  assurance  of  being  smartly  laced. 
Her  hair,  much  craped,  and  showing  no  beginnings  or 
endings,  was  of  a  rich  copper  hue.  Her  friends 
thought  it  better  had  Mrs.  Lewiston  selected  any 
other  tint.  Her  costumes  were  rigorously  a  la  mode, 
her  ornaments  confined  to  a  few  fine  emeralds  and 
sapphires  long  and  favorably  known  in  New  York. 
But  here  her  concessions  to  modernity  ceased.  While 
other  people  were  discarding  old  furniture,  Mrs.  Lew 
iston  pulled  all  of  hers  to  the  front.  Her  walls  were 
a  museum  of  early  colonial  relics.  Since  she  could 
not  equal  Mrs.  Stanley  in  American  splendor,  she  had 
fallen  back  upon  the  pose  of  American  aristocracy. 

Some  excuse  might  be  made  for  this  good  lady's 
habitual  stern  expression  of  countenance.  Seen  driv 
ing  alone  in  her  victoria,  her  face  revealed  the  wear 
and  tear  of  a  sad  domestic  experience.  Her  husband 
having  died  of  consequences  of  dissipation,  her  only 


GOOD  AMERICANS  71 

son  was  now  in  a  fair  way  to  follow  the  paternal  lead. 
"  Young  "  St.  Clair  Lewiston  did  not,  however,  live  at 
home.  When  he  was  not  off  on  other  people's  yachts 
and  four-in-hands,  idling  abroad,  or  lounging  at  the 
clubs,  his  prematurely  aged  face  and  form  were  con 
signed  to  the  seclusion  of  chambers  in  a  modish  quar 
ter  up-town. 

Mrs.  Lewiston  was  fond  of  Sybil,  after  her  lights. 
The  distinction  of  chaperoning  so  successful  an  im 
portation  renewed  in  her  some  of  her  vanished  zest  in 
social  intercourse.  The  girl,  who  was  lonely  for  love, 
had  put  forth  little  feelers  of  affection  that  attached 
themselves  in  a  way  to  her  aunt's  polished  surface.  In 
default  of  tenderness,  which  she  did  not  possess,  Mrs. 
Lewiston  gave  Sybil  material  bounty.  It  was  not 
generally  known  that  Sybil's  income,  owing  to  the 
heedless  management  of  her  peripatetic  mother,  had 
shrunk  under  poor  investments  to  be  a  very  slim 
affair.  She  was  virtually  dependent  on  her  aunt. 
Mrs.  Lewiston  had  already  conveyed  to  her  her  in 
tention,  should  Sybil  make  a  suitable  marriage,  of 
doing  by  her  as  she  would  have  done  by  a  daughter 
of  her  own,  her  son  St.  Clair  being  already  in  posses 
sion  of  an  independent  fortune  larger  than  was  good 
for  him.  The  only  condition  put  upon  this  liberal 
offer  was  that  during  the  first  year  or  two  of  Sybil's 
married  life  she  should  form  a  common  establishment 
with  her  aunt.  "At  least,"  Mrs.  Lewiston  had  said, 
"until  Annie  James  grows  up"— Annie  James  being 
the  daughter  of  an  impecunious  first  cousin  who  might 
be  depended  upon  to  cede  parental  rights  in  that 
young  person  so  soon  as  she  had  acquired  inches  and 


72  GOOD  AMERICANS 

accomplishments  to  justify  her  in  succeeding  Sybil  as 
companion. 

Mrs.  Lewiston  felt  that  in  taking  this  attitude  she 
was  acting  extremely  well;  and  as  long  as  Sybil 
showed  no  sign  of  intended  marriage  with  any  one, 
her  aunt  was  all  the  better  pleased.  Experience  had 
convinced  her  that  a  woman  is  peaceful  only  when 
there  are  no  men  in  the  house. 

It  will  be  judged,  therefore,  that,  although  lapped  in 
luxury,  Miss  Gwynne  was  liable  to  be  denuded,  like 
Cinderella,  of  her  finery.  So  little  had  the  question  of 
money  or  money's  worth  entered  into  Sybil's  thoughts, 
this  condition  caused  her  no  anxiety.  She  had  been 
brought  up  by  her  mother  in  ignorance  of  the  com 
mon  struggles  of  mankind,  since,  if  ever  a  pinch  of 
necessity  for  funds  had  come  to  Mrs.  Gwynne,  she  had 
met  it  by  drawing  on  her  principal. 

MRS.  LEWISTON,  in  a  high  toilet  of  black  silk  and 
gauze,  incrusted  on  the  upper  and  lower  portions 
with  beetles  of  glistening  jet,  stood  near  the  door  of 
her  drawing-room,  shaking  hands  disapprovingly  with 
the  guests  bidden  to  her  musicale.  A  prominent 
object  of  her  attire  was  the  largest  of  the  Lewiston 
emeralds,  worn  as  a  brooch  beneath  her  double  chin. 
As  soon  as  newcomers  had  been  permitted  a  glimpse 
at  this  jewel,  they  were  hastily  passed  along  into  the 
throng. 

Davenant,  whose  name  had  been  duly  enunciated  to 
his  hostess  by  her  butler,  was  honored  by  a  stare. 
While  he  was  still  casting  about  for  some  speech  that 
would  preserve  the  golden  mean  between  self-respect 


GOOD  AMERICANS  73 

and  gratitude  for  her  civility  in  asking  him,  the  same 
functionary  cut  him  short  by  announcing  other  guests. 

"Miss  Gwynne?"  Peter  managed  to  ask,  by  way  of 
fixing  his  identity  as  an  acquaintance  of  the  house. 

"  My  niece  is  in  there/'  gruffly  observed  the  hostess, 
pointing  toward  the  middle  room,  wherein  rows  of  gilt 
cane-seated  chairs  formed  a  barricade  about  a  grand 
piano  and  some  music  stands. 

"  This  great  lady  would  make  a  capital  matron  for 
a  city  prison,"  said  the  outlaw,  mentally.  He  felt  cer 
tain  she  had  heard  of  and  disapproved  his  attentions 
to  her  niece. 

Beneath  an  "acacia,  waving  yellow  hair/'  he  now 
beheld  Sybil,  garbed  in  some  diaphanous  texture  of 
faint  amber  hue,  with  a  large  bunch  of  purple  violets 
at  her  breast.  While  busily  engaged  in  receiving  the 
overflow  of  people  from  the  front  room,  and  in  direct- 
in  g  them  to  seats,  she  gave  Davenant  a  smile  that  did 
not  encourage  him  to  follow  the  example  of  the  crowd 
and  pass  up  forward. 

"May  I— should  I— stand  here  by  you?"  he  asked 
eagerly,  taking  his  place  in  the  angle  of  a  chimney- 
piece  at  her  elbow. 

"  Not  unless  you  are  willing  to  be  useful.  Look  at 
Mr.  Ainslie,  straightening  chairs  like  an  angel." 

The  banality  jarred  upon  Davenant.  It  was  quite 
out  of  his  line  to  do  anything  "like  an  angel";  but, 
then,  from  her  lips  even  nonsense  was  attractive. 

"  Let  me  stay  where  I  can  admire  Ainslie,"  he  said 
lightly.  Already  it  was  his  ambition  to  fit  himself  to 
his  surroundings.  As  one  person  after  another  spoke 
to  her,  he  noted  that  she  had  some  trifle  light  as  air 


74  GOOD  AMEEICANS 

for  each  in  turn ;  that  she  returned  interested  com 
ments  upon  information  seeming  to  him  like  apples  of 
the  Dead  Sea ;  that  she  was,  in  a  word,  thoroughly 
"of"  her  surroundings. 

When  Sybil  was  too  much  occupied  to  speak  to  him, 
Davenant  could  not  forego  hearing  the  chat  that  went 
on  in  his  vicinity.  He  was  measurably  impressed  by 
a  close  and  intimate  discussion  tbetween  two  ladies 
who  talked,  usually  speaking  both  at  once,  concerning 
operations  in  surgery  recently  performed  upon  the 
husband  of  one  and  the  daughter  of  the  other.  Path 
ological  details,  rattled  off  glibly  and  with  evident 
relish,  chilled  his  blood  and  revolted  his  sense  of  de 
cency.  From  this  the  ladies  went  on  to  cooks  ;  and  by 
the  time  they  had  winged  their  flight  to  the  remar 
riage  of  a  celebrated  divorcee  the  first  number  of  the 
program  cut  them  short.  This  was  the  startling  ap 
parition  of  four  pretty  and  fashionably  gowned  young 
women,  in  the  attitudes  of  Burne-Jones's  seraphs,  play 
ing  upon  cornets,  which  performance,  having  created 
an  American  success  in  Mayfair  the  year  before,  had 
now  returned  to  delight  its  native  wilds.  After  this  the 
usual  list  of  songs  and  violin  solos  wore  itself  along. 

Davenant,  who  saw  Mrs.  Grantham  sitting  in  a 
corner,  struggled  across  to  her.  Sybil  having  deserted 
him,  his  own  coign  of  vantage  had  lost  its  value. 

"  I  breathe  free,"  said  he,  straightening  himself  in  a 
doorway  close  to  Katrina's  retreat.  "  My  dear  madam, 
you  were  my  fairy  sponsor  in  polite  circles.  Shall  I 
ever  become  one  of  those  flexible,  supple  creatures, 
with  all  angles  rubbed  away,  and  unwearying  calves, 
who  enjoy  it  ? " 


GOOD  AMERICANS  75 

"I  fear  I  can  hardly  picture  you  as  the  perfected 
social  animal." 

"  When  I  saw  you  I  was  just  about  to  get  upon  my 
hind  legs  and  roar,  from  fatigue." 

"  Have  you  seen  Miss  Carnif ex  ?  She  is  in  yonder 
somewhere." 

"  Is  she?"  said  he,  without  much  interest  and  with 
out  looking  round. 

"  Yes.  I  hear  you  dined  with  them  Sunday.  It  is 
in  her  own  home  one  sees  Agatha  at  her  best." 

"  Her  father  is  a  delightful  old  boy,  I  think.  Looks 
like  a  sucking  dove,  and  delivers  himself  of  the  most 
fiery  sentiments.  And  the  air  of  their  house  is  refresh 
ing." 

This  was  well,  but  not  good  enough  for  Mrs.  Grant- 
ham. 

"  Agatha  needs  only  opportunity  to  develop  as  much 
tenderness  as  she  has  good  sense  and  tact.  It  is  as 
well,  perhaps,  that  she  did  not  marry  early.  She  has 
had  too  many  problems  to  work  out." 

"  She  is  indeed  an  admirable  girl,"  exclaimed  Dave- 
nant,  with  interest  j  and,  feeling  encouraged,  the  match 
maker  went  on : 

"  But  if  she  marries  now,  Agatha  should  never 
separate  from  her  father ;  it  would  break  him  up  ut 
terly.  The  man  who  seeks  her  should  consider  that." 

"  I  should  think  Mr.  Carnif  ex  would  be  a  sprightly 
addition  to  any  establishment." 

"Agatha's  husband  should  make  up  his  mind  to 
hang  his  hat  in  Mr.  Carnifex's  front  hall.  That  old 
house  is  its  master's  shell.  Although  he  has  a  com 
fortable  fortune,  nothing  would  induce  him  to  move 


76  GOOD  AMERICANS 

out.  But  it  is  really  a  huge  house.  Our  old-fashioned 
New  York  dwellings,  with  the  rooms  on  either  side 
the  hall,  must  remind  you  of  your  Southern  homes. 
Mr.  Carnifex's  has  always  made  me  think  of  some  I 
have  seen  in  Richmond  and  Charleston." 

"I  hope  no  son-in-law  will  arise  cruel  enough  to 
uproot  the  old  gentleman,"  remarked  Davenant,  cheer 
fully. 

Mrs.  Grantham  was  silent  for  a  minute.  She  felt 
that  she  had  exhausted  the  subject  of  Mr.  Carnifex's 
house. 

"  I  met  there  a  very  jolly  fellow  called  Ainslie,"  re 
sumed  Davenant. 

"  Ainslie  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Surely  he  is  not  your 
sort.  They  tell  me  he  has  been  following  after  Sybil 
G-wynne  for  months  and  can  do  nothing  for  love  of 
her." 

Davenant's  heart  gave  a  guilty  throb.  Did  his  kind 
friend  only  know  how  much,  in  that  respect,  he  was 
of  Ainslie's  "sort"! 

"  Miss  Gwynne  looks  her  loveliest  to-day,"  he  said, 
with  an  attempt  to  speak  indifferently. 

"  I  hope  it  is  not  because  that  man  her  mother 
wanted  her  to  marry  has  just  appeared  again.  Mrs. 
Arden  tells  me  he  is  considered  the  most  likely  of  all 
Miss  Gwynne's  suitors— one  that  even  Mrs.  Lewiston 
might  look  at  without  turning  him  into  stone.  Hush ! 
There  is  Mme.  Amethyst  beginning  a  song.  She  is 
what  we  have  all  been  waiting  for,  to  make  us  forget 
the  rest." 

The  skylark  singing  of  a  favorite  prima  donna 
might  have  been  that  of  any  other,  for  all  Davenant 


GOOD  AMERICANS  77 

heard  of  it.  Presently,  when  some  people  came  to 
speak  with  Mrs.  Grantham,  he  wandered  off  into  the 
tea-room.  Sybil,  standing  near  the  table,  was  in  the 
act  of  pouring  cream  into  a  cup  held  by  a  fair  man  of 
fine  proportions  and  soldierly  bearing. 

"  That  's  he— that 's  Captain  Cameron/'  said  a  girl, 
talking  to  her  friend.  What  followed  came  to  Dave- 
nant  in  snatches : 

"  He  got  in  this  morning,  on  the  Lucania,  and  has 
lost  no  time." 

"  She  looks  flushed  and  nervous.  I  wonder  if  it 's 
a  <go'?" 

"  Everybody  in  Homburg  said  last  summer  she  had 
thrown  him  over  twice.  Seems  it 's  an  old  affair. 
He  's  one  of  the  easy-going  kind,  apparently.  A 
beauty ;  don't  you  think  so  ? " 

"  Hum  !  not  that  j  but  he  looks  sensible  and  nice ; 
and  I  like  Scotchmen  when  they  are  nice.  The  great 
thing  about  him  is  his  prospects.  Lord  Hunting- 
tower's  heir— and  Lord  Huntingtower  's  past  eighty. 
First  name 's  John,  called  Ian.  Rather  quaint,  is  n't  it  ? 
He  has  an  old  house  in  the  Vale  of  Strathmore.  The 
Stanleys  spent  three  days  with  him  last  year.  Going 
on  to  Canada  to  join  the  staff  of  the  governor-general." 

"I  don't  care  whether  she  's  refused  him  or  not; 
any  one  with  half  an  eye  can  see  she  's  badly  rattled, 
now.  Well  as  I  know  Sybil  Gwynne,  I  never  saw  her 
look  like  that  before." 

Davenant  stood  rooted  to  the  floor.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life  the  rage  of  jealousy  swelled  in  his 
heart.  Not  knowing  how  to  deal  with  it,  he  walked 
out  of  the  house. 


HE  sight  of  Ian  Cameron's  kind,  patient 
face  always  brought  back  to  Sybil 
vividly  the  occasion  of  their  first 
meeting,  at  a  German  watering-place, 
where  her  mother  had  once  stopped 
for  the  cure,  when  Sybil  was  eighteen. 
The  two  ladies,  wearying  of  the  monotony  of  meals  in 
their  sitting-room,  had  descended  to  the  table  d'hote. 
The  young  soldier,  detained  in  the  dull  place  by  a 
twisted  ankle,  found  them  an  agreeable  variety.  From 
acquaintanceship  on  the  ground  of  several  friends  in 
common,  they  had  passed  to  friendship.  Cameron 
had  found  time  to  join  them  at  Dinard  later  on,  where 
Mrs.  Gwynne  was  profiting  by  her  cure  so  far  as  to 
attempt  to  enjoy  life  with  the  fashionable  world. 
Cameron,  seeing  in  the  haggard  woman's  face  that 
which  her  daughter  could  not  see,  urged  Mrs.  Gwynne 
to  give  up  gaiety,  and  go  to  a  quiet  little  village  in 
Brittany,  where  he  knew  of  a  house  in  which  she 
might  be  comfortable.  Mrs.  Gwynne,  acquiescing  in 
this  suggestion  with  a  sort  of  gasping  eagerness  to 
find  some  one  who  would  take  the  direction  of  her 
affairs  out  of  her  hands,  betrayed  her  physical  and 
mental  weakness.  She  was  indeed  in  a  deplorable 

78 


GOOD  AMERICANS  79 

condition.  Death  at  hand,  her  money  matters  in  dis 
order,  her  natural  friends  and  protectors  in  America, 
she  felt  overwhelmed  with  a  longing  for  her  forsaken 
birthplace,  coupled  with  a  shuddering  dread  of  her  last 
journey  home,  in  a  box  down  in  the  hold  of  a  tossing 
ship. 

They  went  to  the  little  country  house  suggested. 
Sybil,  frightened  and  helpless,  knew  not  what  else  to 
do.  An  old  governess  (an  Englishwoman  who  had 
trained  several  Ladies  Ermyntrude  and  Honorable 
Ethels  for  their  world,  before  taking  in  charge  the 
young  American)  came  back  at  her  call,  and  remained 
with  her  until  the  end.  Her  mother's  French  maid, 
the  garde-mdlade,  and  the  doctor  were,  otherwise,  in 
that  dread  moment  the  only  substitutes  for  a  family 
circle.  Before  death  came,  Mrs.  Gwynne  told  Sybil 
that  young  Cameron  had  spoken  of  his  hope  one  day 
to  make  her  his  wife,  of  his  good  prospects  and  con 
nections,  and,  finally,  had  offered  to  marry  Sybil  at 
once.  But  Sybil,  who  cared  for  him  only  as  a  friend 
of  both  storm  and  sunshine,  could  not  give  her  mother 
the  assurance  she  desired. 

The  arrival  of  Mrs.  Lewiston  directly  after  her  sis 
ter's  demise,  and  while  yet  the  survivors  were  under 
going  the  experience  that  makes  the  formalities  after 
death  in  a  foreign  country  so  much  more  distressing 
than  at  home,  gave  Sybil  a  refuge.  Her  aunt,  who 
had  for  years  been  in  strained  relations  with  her 
mother,  was  attracted  by  the  girl's  grace  and  beauty, 
and  determined  at  once  to  appropriate  them.  Sybil, 
with  tears  and  thanks,  had  bidden  farewell  to  her  hon 
est  suitor  j  and  Cameron,  hard  hit  by  the  pretty  crea- 


80  GOOD  AMERICANS 

ture,  went  'off  determining  to  put  her  out  of  his 
thoughts  forever. 

When  he  had  next  met  her,  three  years  later,  Sybil 
was  the  queen-rose  of  a  rosebud  garden  of  American 
and  English  girls  at  gay  Homburg.  She  was  well 
placed,  admired,  reputed  to  be  the  heiress  of  her 
wealthy  relative.  Upon  her  had  been  set  the  cachet 
of  royal  notice  j  and  a  duchess  of  his  acquaintance  had 
told  Cameron  that  one  could  see  Miss  Gwynne  had 
been  brought  up  out  of  America. 

Welcomed  by  Sybil  with  unexhausted  gratitude  and 
kind  remembrance,  he  had  seen  her  every  day  for  a 
week,  at  the  end  of  which  time  he  had  proposed  to 
her  again,  and  was  again  refused.  The  day  following 
this  second  misadventure  saw  Cameron  returning  to 
England.  In  addition  to  his  usual  luggage,  he  carried 
with  him  the  girl's  affectionate  assurance  that  although 
she  could  not  see  her  way  to  marry  him,  it  was  only 
because  she  did  not  consider  her  want  of  love  a  coun 
terpart  to  sincere  and  chivalrous  devotion  such  as  his. 
She  had  every  confidence  in  him ;  he  was  the  most 
noble  and  loyal  friend  she  had  ever  had :  but  indeed, 
indeed,  she  had  no  wish  to  marry  Cameron  or  any  one. 
She  had  a  great  deal  more  of  life  to  know  before  she 
could  settle  down.  Had  not  she,  for  example,  passed 
only  a  single  winter  in  America  since  she  had  left  off 
living  there  at  the  age  of  twelve  ? 

Toward  the  close  of  Sybil's  second  season  in  Amer 
ica,  Cameron  had,  as  has  been  seen,  suddenly  made 
his  appearance  in  New  York.  Through  their  mutual 
acquaintance  Mrs.  Stanley  (whom  he  had  called  upon 
before  luncheon,  almost  as  soon  as  he  had  changed  his 


GOOD  AMERICANS  81 

clothes  at  his  hotel,  after  driving  up-town  from  the 
docks)  the  gallant  captain  had  ascertained  the  address 
of  his  charmer.  Mrs.  Stanley  had  also  informed  him 
of  the  festivity  on  the  cards  at  the  Lewiston  mansion 
that  afternoon,  and  had  invited  him  to  let  her  pick 
him  up  at  his  hotel  and  drive  there. 

At  four  o'clock  Cameron  had  been  ready,  and 
eagerly  ambulant  through  the  corridors  of  the  hos 
telry.  About  half-past  five  Mrs.  Stanley's  footman 
had  peered  in  the  vestibule  doors,  and  requested  a 
hall-boy  to  inform  Captain  Cameron  that  the  carriage 
was  in  waiting.  A  little  later,  as  we  have  seen,  he 
reached  Mrs.  Lewiston's,  after  the  music,  but  in  time 
for  tea. 

There  is  no  saying  that  Sybil  was  not  stirred  by  the 
apparition  of  her  faithful  knight.  As  soon  as  she 
looked  into  his  eyes  she  knew  what  he  had  come  for. 
The  fiction  of  his  intention  to  go  to  Canada  might 
serve  with  the  general  public.  Sybil  understood  him, 
and  trembled.  When  she  had  parted  with  him  last, 
it  was  with  the  feeling  that  she  had  made  a  narrow 
escape  from  surrendering  her  freedom  into  his  hands ; 
and  now,  though  this  was  the  western  hemisphere, 
nothing  could  protect  her  from  again  running  the 
same  risk. 

Sybil's  bold  determination  was  to  assume  with  him 
the  cordial,  friendly  attitude  he  deserved ;  to  be  so 
friendly,  indeed,  that  her  unquenchable  suitor  might 
see  from  the  beginning  there  could  be  between  them 
no  question  of  another  tie.  But  she  reckoned  without 
her  public  of  New  York. 

For  the  talk  of  the  town,  temporarily  lacking  an- 


82  GOOD  AMERICANS 

other  subject,  centered  itself  with  almost  passionate 
activity  upon  the  engagement  reputed  to  exist  be 
tween  Miss  Gwynne  and  Captain  Cameron.  The  un 
fortunate  young  people  found  themselves  exposed  to 
a  publicity  such  as  is  attracted  to  two  great  nations 
on  the  verge  of  war.  Not  only  were  all  known,  and 
many  imagined,  incidents  in  the  history  of  both 
brought  up  for  discussion  at  dinners,  teas,  balls,  and 
clubs,  but  that  last  misery  of  sentient  man  befell 
them— the  newspapers  took  them  up.  Cameron,  an 
unassuming  young  man  who  had  visited  New  York 
before  and  enjoyed  its  brilliant  hospitality,  bore  his 
ordeal  with  good  humor  and  philosophy.  But  one 
day,  coming  down-stairs  at  his  hotel,  he  found  the 
hall  porter  and  a  bell-boy  with  their  heads  together, 
giggling  over  the  head-lines  beneath  two  dreadful 
pictures  purporting  to  be  of  him  and  the  young  lady 
in  the  case : 

A  CAPTAIN   WHO  EXPECTS  TO  BE  AN  EARL! 

AN  AMERICAN   MISS  WHO  WOULD   LIKE   TO    BE  A 
COUNTESS  ! 

MAYBE   SHE  WON'T   GET  HIM,  AFTER  ALL  ! 

This  was  more  than  flesh  and  blood  could  bear. 
The  Scotchman,  filled  with  wrath,  chafed  impotently 
when  he  found  there  was  no  practicable  way  to 
punish  the  authors  of  the  outrage.  There  was  abso 
lutely  nothing  he  could  do,  short  of  dragging  her 
name  with  his  before  the  police  courts,  except  to  com- 


GOOD  AMERICANS  83 

pose  himself  and  try  to  forget  the  exquisite  annoy 
ance. 

Sybil,  who  saw  no  newspapers,  suffered  less  than  he. 
Her  trial  lay  in  the  general  assumption  of  her  friends 
that  her  affair  with  Cameron  must  end  in  marriage. 
The  redeeming  circumstance  about  the  whole  situation 
was  that  Cameron  himself  now  never  mentioned  that 
exigent  word.  He  was  "  nicer  "  than  ever,  Sybil  owned 
to  herself.  If  she  could  only  be  sure  that  he  hated 
her,  or  at  least  preferred  one  of  the  many  other 
girls  he  saw  daily  in  the  recurrent  meetings  of  their 
set!  But  something  told  her  that  this  was  not  the 
case. 

In  the  midst  of  this  confusion  of  mind  she  did  not 
forget  that  she  had  not  seen  Mr.  Davenant  since  the 
afternoon  when  he  had  slipped  away  from  her  aunt's 
musical  party  without  saying  farewell.  The  separa 
tion  was  not  quite  his  fault,  since  cards,  left  by  him 
upon  Mrs.  Lewiston  and  Miss  Gwynne,  had  been  found 
upon  two  occasions,  at  a  week's  interval,  lying  on  the 
hall  table.  But  Sybil  met  him  nowhere.  Mrs.  Grant- 
ham  had  told  her  once  that  Davenant  was  tremen 
dously  busy  just  now  in  the  Something-or-Other  Trust 
case,  and  later  on  that  he  had  come  out  of  it  with 
laurels.  Sybil  saw  by  this  that  he  did  not  permit 
sentimental  interest  to  interfere  with  the  serious  busi 
ness  of  his  life  j  but  she  could  not  help  wishing  she 
had  interfered  so  far  as  to  effect  another  meeting. 
She  missed  the  heart-throbs  he  had  brought  to  her, 
the  charm  of  his  reverent  homage.  Once  she  thought, 
—then  put  it  aside  with  a  guilty  blush,— had  Ian 
Cameron  been  able  to  stir  in  her  this  emotion,  there 


84  GOOD  AMERICANS 

would  have  been  less  demur  in  recognition  by  her  of 
his  fitness  as  a  husband. 

In  many  respects  Cameron  suited  and  pleased  her 
well.  He  understood  her  tastes,  fancies,  allusions  to 
things  and  people  previously  known.  He  represented 
an  existence  that,  as  her  days  in  America  went  on,  she 
felt  a  longing  again  to  blend  with.  She  liked  more 
and  more  to  recall  the  images  of  restful  English  life ; 
its  rich  perfectness,  its  well-ordered  privacy,  its  sim 
plicity  of  habit  during  a  greater  part  of  the  year, 
contrasted  with  the  liberal  gaiety  of  its  London  season, 
and  many  peeps  into  Continental  centers  of  society. 
That  life  as  a  constancy  would  be  a  thing  very  unlike 
her  nomadic  journeyings  with  her  mama,  her  presen 
tations  at  "  half  the  courts  of  Europe,"  her  girlish  tri 
umphs  in  the  cosmopolitan  society  of  certain  German 
spas. 

Cameron  had  once  told  her  that,  if  she  married  him, 
although  they  would  be  only  fairly  well  off,  she  would 
find  his  ancestral  Scottish  home  a  choicer  possession, 
from  an  antiquarian's  point  of  view,  than  either  of 
Lord  Huntingtower's  dwellings,  of  which  they  would 
ultimately  come  into  possession.  He  had  given  Sybil 
photographs  of  this  historic  haunt  of  his  in  the  lovely 
Vale  of  Strathinore;  and  often,  amid  the  rush  of 
New- World  life,  she  had  looked  at  these  pictures  with 
a  sort  of  tender  longing.  She  was  most  tempted, 
perhaps,  by  the  old  north-country  gardens,  with  their 
masses  of  flowers,  their  turf  walks  of  soft  green  velvet, 
their  pyramids  of  box,  eagles  of  holly,  and  peacocks 
of  yew  keeping  guard  to-day  as  they  did  three  hun 
dred  years  ago.  She  had  seen  and  loved  so  many  such 


GOOD  AMERICANS  85 

pleasances  within  the  circle  of  the  British  Isles  !  And 
these  now  offered  to  her  were  said,  upon  the  authority 
of  the  Stanleys,  to  be  among  the  loveliest  and  rarest 
in  the  land. 

One  morning  Sybil  had  taken  out  her  photographs 
and  was  scanning  them.  From  the  exterior,  with  its 
mullioned  windows  and  ivy-shrouded  walls,  to  the 
vaulted  halls  and  "  dining-parlor,"  lined  with  old 
Spanish  leathers— from  the  galleries  full  of  family 
portraits,  under  which  the  American  girl  might  walk 
as  one  of  the  line,  to  the  great,  quaint,  shadowy,  oak- 
paneled  morning-room  that  had  been  lan's  mother's, 
and  would  be  his  wife's— she  passed  in  turn.  Just 
then  Sybil  received  a  visit  from  her  aunt. 

With  a  blush,  she  swept  the  pile  of  pictures  to  one 
side  of  her  table,  but  not  before  Mrs.  Lewiston  had 
observed  the  nature  of  her  preoccupation. 

"  Good  gracious,  child !  you  need  not  mind  my  see 
ing  that  you  are  taking  that  into  consideration,"  said 
the  lady,  in  a  clear,  brisk  voice.  "  It  is  just  what  you 
ought  to  do,  in  fact.  Things  have  got  to  such  a  pass 
now,  you  must  come  to  some  other  definite  decision." 

"  I  think  not,  Aunt  Elizabeth,"  faltered  Sybil,  red 
dening  to  the  roots  of  her  hair,  and  looking  ready  to 
burst  into  tears. 

"You  can't  be  supposed  to  know  how  the  outside 
world  is  making  busy  with  your  affair ;  but  St.  Clair 
tells  me  you  are  the  talk  of  the  newspapers  and  clubs, 
and,  unless  your  engagement  is  officially  announced, 
either  Captain  Cameron  will  have  to  take  himself  off 
to  Canada,  or  I  shall  have  to  go  with  you  to  Florida 
or  Bermuda,  or  some  of  those  tiresome  places." 


86  GOOD  AMERICANS 

Again  the  blushes  dyed  Sybil's  face. 

"It  is  through  no  fault  of  mine,  Aunt  Elizabeth, 
that  you  are  subjected  to  these  inconveniences.  You 
know  whether  I  have  encouraged  him  to  come  here." 

"  It  would  have  been  well  enough,  but  for  the  press," 
said  the  angry  lady.  "  You  know  Bermuda  bores  me, 
and  Florida  is  so  wretchedly  far  off." 

"What  do  you  wish  me  to  do?"  asked  the  girl, 
drooping  her  fair  head  submissively. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  asked  St.  Clair  to  come  in  to  din 
ner  to-night,  and  talk  it  over;  and  perhaps  he  will. 
It  is  his  duty  to  advise  us.  But  it  is  so  hard  to  get 
him  to  speak ;  all  he  said  was,  I  Ve  no  right  to  bind 
you  by  an  agreement  to  live  with  me  if  you  marry  a 
British  subject;  he  said  it  's  uncommon  rough  on 
Cameron.  And  so,  thinking  it  over,  I  've  come  in  to 
tell  you  I  '11  make  this  agreement :  If  you  marry 
Cameron,  I  '11  give  you  the  same  allowance  I  prom 
ised  all  along,  and  either  I  '11  take  a  house  in  London 
for  the  season,  where  you  '11  stop  with  me,  or  you  '11 
both  come  over  to  Newport  and  stay  until  the  autumn. 
Of  course,  when  Annie  James  comes  to  live  with  me  I 
will  let  you  off.  And  St.  Clair  says  I  ought  to  give 
you  the  money  outright  that  will  bring  in  the  income 
I  promised  you." 

"  St.  Clair  has  always  been  good  to  me,"  said  Sybil, 
touched  by  this  unexpected  kindness. 

"  Yes ;  he  likes  you ;  he  says  you  make  no  demands 
upon  him.  Poor  boy !  but  for  his  wretched  health,  he 
might  marry  himself,  and—  Sybil,  you  know  I  am  no 
friend  to  marriage  for  women;  but,  if  it 's  got  to  be,  I 
think  Cameron  is  the  best  for  you.  If  my  sister  had 


GOOD  AMERICANS  87 

lived  up  to  the  traditions  of  our  family  in  New  York, 
— if  she  had,  like  myself,  stood  before  society  as  a 
type  of  the  old  aristocracy  of  our  land, — things  might 
have  been  different.  But  you  are  totally  unfit  for  life 
over  here.  You  know  nothing,  and  care  less,  for  our 
national  history.  Why,  I  believe  you  have  hardly  cut 
the  leaves  of  those  volumes  I  took  such  pains  to  select 
for  your  shelves." 

"I  have  so  little  time  to  read,  aunt,"  replied  the 
recreant,  with  a  guilty  glance  at  a  pair  of  John  Fiske's 
delightful  volumes  upon  the  American  Revolution, 
lying  on  the  table,  with  a  silver  book-mark  very  near 
page  1  of  Volume  I. 

"Of  course— and  little  inclination.  But,  as  I  said, 
Cameron  is  the  best  husband  for  you.  These  young 
fellows  you  dance  with  have  neither  money  to  support 
wives,  nor  wish  to  assume  the  responsibility.  Mr. 
Mortimer— 

"  Don't  speak  of  him  !  "  cried  the  girl. 

"It  would  be  an  excellent  position.  But  he  is,  of 
all  people  in  town,  essentially  an  American.  His 
tastes  and  yours  would  never  fit.  I  doubt  if  he  would 
take  time  to  run  over  to  Europe  once  in  two  years. 
If  you  accepted  him,  you  'd  have  to  settle  down  to 
nothing  but  New  York." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Elizabeth,"  cried  Sybil,  throwing  her 
arms  wearily  into  the  air,  "  if  you  knew  how  hard  this 
is  for  me  to  bear !  " 

"  There  are  times  in  every  woman's  life,  my  dear, 
when  she  must  consent  to  look  things  in  the  face ;  and 
this  is  yours.  For  my  part,  I  can't  think  what  has 
become  of  our  marriageable  men.  In  our  day— your 


88  GOOD  AMERICANS 

poor  mother's  and  mine— there  were  so  many  more 
than  now.  St.  Glair  says  it  's  because  the  girls  expect 
so  much;  the  men  make  up  their  minds  not  to  try. 
He  says,  too,  the  girls  are  all  aiming  for  such  high 
game,  they  let  ordinary  chances  slip.  That  is  the  way 
men  talk  among  themselves.  In  this  age  men  are  so 
horrid  about  women." 

"  Everything  is  horrid ! "  exclaimed  Sybil,  her  lip 
trembling. 

"  "Well,  child,  since  it  is  evident  you  are  in  an  obsti 
nate  mood,  I  11  say  no  more  for  the  present,  except 
that  I  wish  to  mention  Britton  having  brought  to  me 
several  cards,  left  recently,  of  that  Mr.  Davenant  you 
met  at  Katrina  Grantham's.  Now  I  don't  deny  the 
Granthams'  good  birth  and  antecedents,  but  I  am  told 
they  receive— ahem  !  —very  queer  people.  I  asked  St. 
Clair  about  Mr.  Davenant,  and  he  said  he  never  heard 
of  the  fellow  in  any  of  his  clubs.  I  think  it  is  very 
forward  of  him  to  call  here  so  often,  upon  such  slight 
acquaintance.  He  is  probably  a  nobody  who  wants  to 
get  in  with  established  families." 

"  Ask  Mr.  Carnif  ex  what  he  thinks  of  Mr.  Davenant," 
answered  the  girl,  with  spirit.  "Ask  anybody  who 
knows  something  outside  of  our  little  narrow  circle." 

"  You  have  been  seeing  that  young  man  ? "  quickly 
countered  Mrs.  Lewiston. 

"  Only  where  I  have  told  you,  except  once,  when  he 
joined  me  on  the  street  for  a  few  minutes'  walk.  But 
there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  see  him,  Aunt 
Elizabeth.  He  is  every  whit  as  good  as  the  best  we 
know.  He  is  more  clever  and  learned  than  any  one 
we  know." 


GOOD  AMERICANS  89 

"  I  have  it,  on  good  authority,  that  the  Granthams' 
friends  are  queer,"  insisted  Mrs.  Lewiston,  obstinately 
closing  her  lips  ;  "  and  whatever  this— er— person— 
may  be,  St.  Clair  has  never  heard  of  him  in  any  of  the 
clubs." 

"  He  belongs  to  the  Academical,  for  one,"  said  Sybil, 
blushing  at  her  own  weakness. 

"  Eh  !  St.  Clair  does  not  belong  to  the  Academical," 
answered  Mrs.  Lewiston,  with  finality.  "In  any  case, 
Sybil,  I  do  not  care  to  have  Mr.  Davenant  coming  to 
my  house.  If  you  are  to  marry  Cameron,  you  cannot 
receive  another  person  who  has  either  fallen  in  love 
with  you  upon  ridiculously  short  acquaintance,  or  is 
using  you  to  push  himself  into  society.  I  may  as  well 
tell  you  that  he  called  again  yesterday ;  but  as  I  had 
given  Britton  orders  to  say  the  ladies  were  not  at 
home,  the  matter  ended  with  two  cards.  Now,  child, 
think  over  what  I  have  said  •  take,  if  you  like,  a  week 
to  consider  it.  If  you  are  not  going  to  have  Cameron, 
tell  me,  and  we  will  leave  town  for  somewhere— dear 
knows  where.  They  tell  me  people  under  our  circum 
stances  go  a  great  deal  now  to  the  Virginia  Springs." 

"  Do  you  mean  people  who  are  hounded  by  the  gos 
sip  of  newspapers  and  the  opinion  of  those  they  don't 
respect  ? "  said  Sybil,  hotly. 

But  the  expression  of  her  aunt's  face,  set  in  pride  of 
her  own  opinion— the  knowledge  of  her  ideas,  hide 
bound  in  prejudice— stopped  further  outburst  upon 
the  girl's  part.  She  curbed  herself  so  far  as  to  kiss 
her  Aunt  Elizabeth  upon  a  brow  like  polished  granite, 
and  to  show  her  a  new  ball-dress  that  had  just  come 
home  for  Mrs.  Stanley's  "little  dance"  on  the  morrow. 


90  GOOD  AMERICANS 

That  evening,  at  the  opera,  she  saw  Davenant  in  the 
stalls,  alone.  He  looked  grave  and  care-worn,  and 
Sybil's  heart— her  vagrant  heart  of  youth— went  out 
in  joy  at  sight  of  him,  in  sympathy  with  the  cloud 
upon  his  face.  She  was  sitting  in  the  box  of  Mrs. 
Arden,  whom  Davenant  did  not  know,  and  feared  he 
would  not  understand  that  he  was  free  to  call  on  her. 
In  addition,  Captain  Cameron  was  of  their  party,  and 
several  times  the  lorgnons  of  the  house  had  veered 
around  to  center  upon  the  group. 

"  What  it  is  to  be  the  chaperon  of  the  <  Cynthia  of 
the  minute ' !  "  said  Mrs.  Arden  to  Cameron.  "  Do  you 
know,  although  you  may  n't  believe  me,  I  should  n't 
want  one  of  my  girls  to  have  the  belleship  of  Sybil 
Gwynne.  How  in  the  world  is  a  girl  who  has  tasted 
it  ever  going  to  do  without  it  in  her  after  life  ? " 

"I  can  think  of  but  one  remedy,"  said  he,  smiling 
—  "another  hemisphere.  Fortunately,  Miss  Gwynne 
has  a  balance  and  a  sweetness  of  temper  that  enable 
her  to  keep  unspoiled." 

"You  don't  spoil  women  in  your  part,  certainly," 
said  the  lively  widow.  "When  I  remember  the  way 
nice  women  stand  around,  and  follow  after,  and  let 
themselves  be  dictated  to  by  husbands  and  lovers,  and 
even  by  brothers,  in  England  !  " 

"  Yet  they  seem  satisfied  with  us,"  rejoined  the  cap 
tain,  carelessly.  He  had  had  so  much  of  international 
discussion.  Just  now  his  whole  thoughts  were  con 
centrated  in  the  honest  hope  to  win  and  carry  away 
from  these  hothouse  surroundings  the  girl  he  had  loved 
for  years.  Once  bring  her  to  accept  him  for  a  hus 
band,  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  accomplish  the 


GOOD  AMERICANS  91 

reasonable  happiness  of  their  two  lives.  But  some 
thing  had  now  entered  into  her  life  and  thoughts  that 
Cameron  could  not  understand.  She  was  no  longer 
the  simple,  transparent  being  who  had  refused  to 
marry  him  because  she  had  never  known  love.  Her 
secret,  if  she  had  one,  eluded  him.  He  was  tempted 
to  think  this  another  phase  of  that  infinite  complexity, 
womanhood. 

To-night,  Cameron,  feeling  that  matters  were  com 
ing  to  a  crisis,  had,  while  sitting  by  her  at  dinner, 
infused  into  his  talk  with  her  a  more  proprietary 
warmth  than  he  had  ventured  on  before.  She  had 
been  agitated,  had  shrunk  away,  but  had  not  entirely 
turned  from  him  her  countenance.  During  the  even 
ing  he  did  not  once  sit  in  the  chair  behind  hers,  or 
seem  to  look  at  her ;  but  the  cool  captain  had  his  eyes 
fully  open  to  what  was  going  on.  He  had  seen  her 
face  light  suddenly  as  she  identified  some  one  in  the 
stalls,  to  whom  she  had  bowed  with  a  gracious  but  shy 
smile.  Shortly  after,  he  had  observed  the  arrival  of  a 
new  caller,  a  tall,  dark,  forceful  man  of  striking  indi 
viduality,  who,  duly  named  to  Mrs.  Arden  as  Mr.  Dave- 
nant,  had  then  fallen  into  close  conversation  with  Miss 
Grwynne.  Cameron,  divining  what  he  did  not  desire  to 
think,  with  a  fine  instinct  arose  and  went  out  of  the  box. 

"  It  has  been  so  long  since  I  have  seen  you,"  said  the 
girl  to  Davenant,  trying  to  appear  unconcerned,  but 
succeeding  rather  ill. 

"Yet  I  have  called  repeatedly.  Is  it  possible  you 
did  not  get  my  cards  ? " 

"New  York  is  too  big,"  she  said  evasively.  "We 
are  too  busy,  too  selfish,  too  bent  on  our  own  devices, 


92  GOOD  AMERICANS 

too  scattered.  Nobody  is  l  at  home ;  now,  unless  to  a 
raft  of  people." 

"A  man  can't  keep  up  going  forever  and  never 
getting  in." 

"  If  we  were  in  London  in  the  season,  and  could 
stray  out  into  Hyde  Park  and  sit  upon  penny  chairs 
everything  would  come  to  us  j  but  here  one  never  runs 
upon  any  one  outdoors  where  it 's  possible  to  stop  and 
talk  without  blocking  up  the  street." 

"Do  your  'people7  not  walk!"  he  asked,  eagerness 
in  his  gaze.  "  Would  you  come  with  me  to  our  park  ? " 

"  From  the  Marble  Arch  to  the  Obelisk,  and  then 
Hake  a  walk,'"  she  said,  laughing.  "What  a  mag 
nificent  distance  you  are  laying  out !  " 

" Then  you  hold  out  to  me  no  hope?"  he  replied  in 
an  impassioned  undertone.  "  I  may  not  call  j  we  may 
never  meet.  What  remains  for  me  ? " 

Sybil  would  have  given  anything  in  reason  to  control 
her  heart-throbs  at  that  moment.  Her  voice,  shaking 
as  she  tried  to  answer  him  lightly,  played  her  false. 

"  I  will  walk  with  you,"  she  said  rapidly.  "  I  think 
you  would  not  find  it  pleasant  to  call  for  me  at  my 
aunt's  house.  I  shall  be  leaving  Mrs.  Stanley's  to 
morrow  at  four  o'clock.  If  you  are  there,  we  may 
stroll  down  the  Avenue  together." 

"  Mrs.  Stanley  hardly  knew  me  when  I  bowed  just 
now,"  he  said,  bewildered ;  "  but  if  you  say  so,  I  shall 
be  there." 

Sybil,  who  had  never  before  made  an  arrangement 
of  this  unconventional  nature,  had  no  sooner  seen  him 
go  than  she  would  have  recalled  it.  Her  concession 
could  surprise  no  one  more  than  it  had  herself. 


GOOD  AMERICANS  93 

"  That  is  a  man  I  have  often  wanted  to  see,"  said 
Mrs.  Arden,  leaning  over  to  Sybil.  "  I  understand 
he  is  l  booked '  to  marry  Agatha  Carnif ex." 

"  I  had  not  heard  of  it,"  murmured  Sybil,  faintly. 

"  I  forget  who  told  me.  One  hears  so  many  things. 
But  it  is  certainly  suitable  ;  don't  you  think  so  ? " 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"They  are  just  the  couple  to  found  a  New  York 
household  of  the  higher  substantial  sort— heads  of  the 
community,  and  all  that.  Agatha  will  go  on  presid 
ing  over  committees,  and  his  name  will  be  in  every 
list  of  eminent  citizens.  They  say  Mr.  Carnifex  is 
enchanted  with  his  future  son-in-law." 

"  When  did  this  happen  f  Are  you  sure  ?  Are  they 
old  enough  acquaintances  ? "  asked  Sybil,  confused  and 
wretched. 

"  For  the  life  of  me,  I  can't  remember.  I  wonder  if 
it  came  from  Katrina  Grantham,  whose  l  swan '  he  is  ? 
Perhaps ;  but  I  don't  know,  really." 

A  new  batch  of  callers  distracted  them.  The  shock 
of  what  she  had  heard  nerved  Sybil  to  sit  upright,  to 
talk  and  laugh  with  unusual  animation.  In  no  other 
way  could  she  cover  the  blank  dismay  of  her  feelings. 

In  the  lobby  Davenant  came  upon  the  ever-cheerful 
Mr.  Hamilton  Ainslie. 

"  Saw  you  in  there  a  moment  since,"  said  Ainslie, 
indicating  vaguely  Mrs.  Arden's  box.  "  I  fancy  you 
know  that  all  the  rest  of  us  have  pretty  much  thrown 
up  the  sponge.  Old  Mortimer  has  gone  West  in  a 
special.  Our  ancient  playfellow,  Mrs.  Stanley,  thinks 
the  engagement  will  be  out  shortly." 

"What  engagement?"  asked  Davenant,  brusquely. 


04  GOOD  AMEEICANS 

"Miss  G Wynne's  with  Cameron.  He  is  a  deuced 
good  fellow,  let  me  tell  you.  He  will  never  bore  her  j 
he  will  treat  her  well.  The  place  he  gives  her  will  fit 
like  a  glove.  The  more  I  've  thought  it  out,  the  better 
I  'm  satisfied  she  won't  do  over  here.  With  every  wish 
to  adapt  herself,  she  's  not  adaptable.  She  can't  go 
on  in  her  present  line  forever,  don't  you  know.  And 
after  that— what?  I  confess  I  can't  see." 

"  You  believe  she  wishes  to  marry  him  ? " 

"  I  believe  she  will  marry  him.  I  don't  see  who  's 
to  prevent  it.  I  can't,  much  as  I  'd  like  to.  Must  you 
go  ?  Good-by.  We  '11  have  a  spin  together  some  of 
the  fine  spring  days." 

Davenant,  from  his  seat  in  the  parquet,  gave  one 
more  glance  into  Mrs.  Arden's  box.  He  saw  Sybil  in 
conversation  with  Cameron,  whose  manner  was  ner 
vous,  his  quiet  face  flushed  with  excitement.  Many 
others  noticed  this  little  episode.  It  was  the  first  time 
any  one  could  say  he  or  she  had  seen  Miss  Gwynne 
show  her  suitor  such  public  favor. 

The  next  day  Davenant  received  a  note  from  Sybil 
asking  him  to  excuse  her  from  filling  the  engagement 
to  walk,  that  she  felt  she  had  made  too  hastily. 

And  the  next  week  it  was  announced  by  the  papers 
that  Miss  Gwynne  had  gone  with  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Lew- 
iston,  to  the  Virginia  Springs.  Captain  Cameron 
being  still  seen  in  his  usual  haunts  about  town,  the 
surmise  was  that  on  their  return  the  time  for  the 
nuptials  would  be  given  to  the  world.  By  and  by, 
when  Cameron  departed  to  make  his  long-deferred  visit 
to  the  Canadian  provinces,  the  gossips  were  thrown 
off  the  scent ;  and  for  a  time  they  said  nothing  at  all. 


VI 


TIRING  the  months  following  the  crash 
of  Davenant's  air-castle  he  formed  the 
habit  of  going  frequently  to  visit  Mr. 
and  Miss  Carnifex.  His  need  of  re 
fined  and  sympathetic  companionship 
had  now  become  urgent.  There  was 
no  one  living  of  whom  he  would  have  made  a  confi 
dant.  To  have  loved  Sybil  was  a  glory,  to  have  lost 
her  a  consequence  to  be  expected  by  common  sense. 
So  brief,  so  passionate  a  dream  might  seem  to  others 
incredible ;  to  him  it  was  a  reality  that  could  not  pass. 
In  any  case,  he  was  not  one  to  wear  his  heart  upon 
his  sleeve  for  even  a  friend's  investigation. 

But  he  craved  friends,  and  in  the  Carnifexes  found, 
if  not  healing,  comfort  for  his  wounds.  That  amiable 
old  worldling,  Mr.  Carnifex,  proved  to  be  a  mine  of 
information,  philosophy,  and  quaint  comment  con 
cerning  the  community  and  people  of  New  York. 
Nothing  that  had  occurred  here  in  business  or  society 
for  the  last  fifty  years  had  escaped  his  notice  or  passed 
out  of  his  tenacious  memory.  He  had  lived  to  see  the 
great  social-equality  theory  of  democracy  fall  quite  to 
pieces  at  the  end  of  the  first  century  in  the  leading 

95 


96  GOOD  AMERICANS 

city  of  the  republic,  to  see  new  classes  formed,  new 
grades  and  distinctions  assert  themselves,  with  no 
body  to  say  them  nay.  His  old  pleasant  life  among 
his  compeers  and  associates  was  gone.  Poor  Mr. 
Carnifex,  after  roving  about  among  the  houses  of  his 
friends  and  at  his  club,  would  often  come  back  to  his 
library,  and  drop  down  into  his  chair,  determined  to 
rove  no  more.  Under  these  conditions,  the  society  of 
Davenant  was  a  boon,  and  to  Davenant  he  attached 
himself  with  almost  pathetic  devotion. 

With  Agatha,  Davenant  advanced  more  slowly  along 
the  path  of  mutual  confidence  and  esteem  ;  but  theirs 
was  growing  to  be  as  good  an  example  of  friendship 
between  the  sexes  as  this  troublous  world  can  offer. 

Ainslie,  whom  he  encountered  occasionally  at  the 
Carnifexes',  was  the  only  one  who  seemed  to  have  dis 
cerned  Davenant's  feeling  for  Sybil.  Since  Ainslie 
was  himself  occupied  in  the  task  of  trying  to  forget 
her,  he  gave  no  hint  of  his  suspicions.  What  Agatha 
knew  about  either  man's  feelings,  nobody  knew.  She 
was  the  rare  woman  who  keeps  impressions  to  herself. 

One  Sunday,  after  riding  all  the  morning  through 
the  tender  greens  of  a  late- April  landscape,  Davenant 
dropped  in  to  luncheon  with  the  Granthams,  whom  he 
found  in  the  throes  of  deciding  upon  their  summer 
plans. 

"Help  me,  Davenant,"  said  Mowbray  Grantham, 
pausing  in  the  act  of  carving  a  pair  of  fowls.  "  These 
womenkind  of  mine,  my  wife  and  Katty,  are  pressing 
for  a  vote  from  me  which  I  know,  and  they  know,  will 
carry  no  possible  weight.  We  are,  in  imagination, 
making  the  circuit  of  the  country.  I  go  to  bed  in  one 


GOOD  AMERICANS  97 

rural  resort,  get  up  in  another,  go  down-town  believ 
ing  myself  established  for  the  summer  at  a  third.  By 
dinner-time  they  have  found  an  entirely  new  place, 
where— but  that  I  know  we  shall  move  out  of  it,  bag 
and  baggage,  in  a  day  or  two— I  might  be  resigned  to 
settle  down  and  thank  God  for  a  place  of  rest." 

"The  whole  trouble,"  began  Mrs.  Grantham,  pa 
tiently  waiting  till  her  lord  had  said  his  say,  "lies  in 
the  way  rich  people  have  spoiled  the  nice  places  for 
those  of  moderate  means.  By  the  time  I  bring  my 

girl  and  boys  home  from  a  summer  at ,  or , 

or ,  they  are  set  up  with  ideas  of  expenditure  per 
fectly  ruinous  to  a  professional  income." 

"That  is  very  virtuous,  O  mother  in  Israel,"  quoth 
her  husband ;  "  but  where  is  she  who  desires  her  young 
to  be  deprived  of  the  advantages  and  enjoyments  of 
their  set  ?  In  my  day — 

"Papa,  you  know  I  do  not  allow  you  to  have  had 
a  '  day ;  yet,"  cried  his  saucy  Katty,  with  an  admiring 
glance  at  him. 

"  In  my  day,"  went  on  Grantham,  imperturbably, 
"we  young  people  got  our  pleasures  without  price. 
We  roamed,  shot,  fished,  and  played  in  the  free  open. 
Now  all  joys  must  be  paid  for  at  the  highest  market 
rates.  If  your  boy  wheels,  his  machine  must  be  one 
of  the  current  year.  If  he  golfs,  there  are  subscrip 
tions  and  an  outfit  of  the  best.  If  he  fishes  or  shoots 
—I  cease  to  contemplate  the  cost  of  those  amusements ! 
And  then,  girls—" 

"Certainly  a  girl  must  have  things  not  necessary 
for  a  boy.  But  I  am  sure  our  children  are  all  per 
fectly  reasonable,  poor  dears,"  mused  Mrs.  Grantham. 


98  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"If  it  were  not  for  the  effort  of  Katty's  coming 
out-" 

" Mummy  dear/7  cried  Katty,  buoyantly,  "if  my 
coming  out  is  going  to  plunge  the  family  into  such 
trouble,  I  think  I  'd  rather  stay  in.  Anyhow,  the  boys 
and  I  had  a  thousand  times  rather  go  back  to  the  farm, 
and  have  some  fun,  than  to  one  of  those  prim,  dress- 
up-and-visity  places." 

"  You  are  lucky  enough  to  possess  a  family  home 
stead,  are  n't  you  ? "  asked  the  visitor  of  his  hostess. 

Mrs.  Grantham's  eyes,  seeking  her  husband's,  then 
Katty's,  assumed  a  pensive  and  apologetic  expression. 

"We  had  determined  to  try  to  find  a  tenant  for 
Hillcote  this  year,"  she  said,  hesitating. 

"  The  truth  is,  Davenant,"  supplemented  Grantham, 
"my  ancestral  domain,  in  a  stony  and  unproductive 
region  of  western  Massachusetts,  has  cost  me  so  much 
money  to  'restore7  it  according  to  my  wife's  ideas—77 

"  What  about  your  experiments  in  agriculture  ? 77  in 
terrupted  Katrina,  softly. 

"  —we  can  hardly  afford  to  live  there,77  pursued  Mr. 
Justice  Grantham.  "  Last  year  we  got  it  off  our  hands 
to  an  estimable  family,  who  at  once  went  to  Europe, 
leaving  their  horses,  servants,  an  invalid  daughter,  a 
trained  nurse,  and  a  governess  in  possession.77 

"  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  my  chintz  covers  in 
the  drawing-room  afterward,77  interpolated  the  hostess, 
"and  two  bedrooms  that  have  to  be  painted  and 
papered  new.77 

"  But  we  must  own  that  our  tenants  paid  their  way,77 
said  Grantham.  "  I  am  going  to  tell  you  also,  Dave 
nant,  that  it  is  n't  the  expensiveness  of  Hillcote  that 


GOOD  AMERICANS  99 

is  the  drawback,  so  much  as  the  remoteness.  Our 
very  first  season  there,  my  wife  and  daughter  and  one 
son  fancied  they  must  have  a  month  at  the  seaside  for 
change— 

"  Oh,  oh !  n  cried  Mrs.  Grantham  and  Katty  in  con 
cert,  "  you  know  it  was  really  measles,  and  the  doctor 
ordered  us  to  go." 

"  Let  me  give  Davenant  my  experience  as  a  beacon- 
light  to  young  men  intending  matrimony.  I  inherited 
that  farm  from  my  grandfather,  and  had  a  sentiment 
for  it  that  need  not  be  explained.  I  should  have  liked 
to  go  back  there  for  my  summer  vacation,  and  live  the 
old  life  just  as  it  was.  But  the  occasion  offered  too 
good  an  opportunity  to  my  decorative  wife  not  to  be 
improved.  New-Yorkers  then  were  in  the  full  flush 
of  restoring  old  houses  in  new-old  fashion.  My  wife 
had  a  nest-egg  of  a  few  thousands  she  wanted  to  put 
into  our  l  summer  home/  We  committed  ourselves  to 
the  mercy  of  a  young  architect  who  was  said  to  have 
a  '  strong  feeling '  for  the  revival  of  early  American 
art  in  house-building.  After  he  had  done  with  us  we 
had  a  strong  feeling  of  empty  American  pockets.  The 
old  house  had  taken  on  a  fine  style  and  complexion. 
Eccentricities  my  good  Puritan  forebears  had  never 
dreamed  of  cropped  out  everywhere.  But  my  wife 
said  it  was  'too  beautiful  for  anything7;  and  I  sup 
pose  she  knew.  All  of  one  winter  she  spent  in  ran 
sacking  curiosity-shops  for  furniture.  She  would  send 
home  dejected  specimens  of  second-hand  chairs,  sofas, 
and  four-post  beds,  brasses,  mirrors,  and  the  like.  She 
even  bought  a  worsted  fire-screen  that  she  said  '  ought 
to  have  been '  worked  by  my  Aunt  Pamela.  I  am  not 


100  GOOD  AMERICANS 

sure  she  did  not  purchase  an  imaginary  portrait  of 
my  Aunt  Pamela.  For  the  hall  we  had  English  hunt- 
scenes,  for  the  dining-room  black  old  engravings  that 
would  frighten  you.  But  Mrs.  Grantham  is  always 
essentially  correct—1 

"  Please,  papa/'  cried  Katty,  "  let  me  interrupt,  to 
tell  Mr.  Davenant  that  Hillcote  is  now  the  prettiest 
old  model  farm-house  in  Massachusetts.  And  may  I 
tell  him,  too,  about  your  vegetable-garden—how  much 
the  peas  cost  apiece  by  the  time  we  got  them  on  the 
table— and  the  strawberries?" 

"  My  father  does  his  farming  by  long-distance  tele 
phone  from  his  chambers,"  said  one  of  the  school-boys, 
with  a  mischievous  look. 

"How  about  those  hogs,  papa?"  added  the  other 
lad,  evidently  touching  some  family  joke.  "  Oh,  don't 
let 's  talk  about  going  anywhere  but  to  Hillcote !  "  he 
burst  out  fervently. 

"Agreed!  "said  Katty. 

"  Agreed !  "  cried  the  older  boy. 

"  Carried !  "  exclaimed  the  girl,  clapping  her  hands. 
"  Mummy  darling,  if  you  knew  how  I  hate  dancing 
and  prancing  and  going  to  dinners  in  summer-time, 
you  'd  never  take  me  to  Newport  or  Lenox  or  Bar 
Harbor.  Keep  all  the  money  you  'd  have  spent  on 
our  finery,  and  let  us  have  the  farm." 

"  And  be  a  ruined  parent  at  the  end  of  the  season," 
said  Grantham ;  but  it  was  easy  to  see  that  his  sym 
pathies  were  with  his  young  ones. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Davenant,  how  our  juveniles  rule  us," 
observed  Katrina,  as,  upon  Peter's  declining  a  cigar 
with  his  host,  she  returned  with  him  to  her  drawing- 


GOOD  AMERICANS 


room.  "  I  don't  doubt  they  will  end  by  having  their 
own  way.  And,  should  we  go  to  Hillcote,  you  must 
promise  to  make  us  a  visit  there.  The  only  neighbors 
of  any  consequence  we  have  are  the  Stanleys,  who 
own  a  fine  house  built  on  a  great  wide-spreading  es 
tate  a  few  miles  distant,  where  they  keep  up  a  stock- 
farm,  but  rarely  go.  Not  once  since  we  fitted  up  our 
farm-house  has  she  been  there.  Etta  goes  abroad 
every  spring,  returns  to  Newport  in  July,  and  spends 
the  autumn  at  Lenox  or  elsewhere.  From  year's  end 
to  year's  end,  she  is  never  out  of  harness  for  the  gay 
world." 

"  No  wonder  your  charming  little  daughter  avoids 
such  an  example,"  said  Davenant.  "  You  are  good  to 
let  me  have  a  glimpse  of  home  life  and  natural  talk  in 
this  reign  of  artificiality." 

"  It  is  all  natural  talk  in  our  house,"  said  she,  smil 
ing  with  a  tender  thought  of  her  brood.  "With  all 
the  abuse  we  Americans  have  to  stand,  I  claim  for  us 
average  people  an  intimacy  of  domestic  life,  a  unity  of 
interest  with  our  children,  that  you  see  in  few  other 
countries.  My  boys  and  my  girl  are  the  best  part  of 
my  existence,  and  their  habit  of  confidence  sweetens 
the  bitter  drops  of  the  daily  cup." 

"You  must  have  few  of  those,"  put  in  Davenant, 
with  a  half-sigh. 

"  Who  has  n't  some  ? "  she  returned.  "  What  two 
wedded  lives,  with  their  outgrowths,  ever  ran  an  even, 
unbroken  course?  A  man  thinks  when  he  gets  the 
woman  he  loves,  and  a  girl  thinks  when  she  gives 
herself,  that  they  will  be  always  superior  to  petty 
differences— that  they  will  set  a  pace  for  others  to  keep 


t  £.     GOOD  AMERICANS 

up  with.  Ah  me  !  This  world  is  nothing  but  going 
on  from  day  to  day,  living  as  best  one  can,  hoping, 
striving,  falling,  and  scrambling  up  again.  When  you 
marry,  pray  for  adaptability  to  your  other  half  ;  pray 
also  to  recognize  your  limitations,  and  to  fit  yourself 
to  them." 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  formulate  any  petitions  of  the 
kind/'  he  said  with  an  attempt  to  smile. 

"  Some  day  !  "  she  answered  in  a  lighter  vein. 

Katrina  had  heard  of  his  frequenting  the  Carnifex 
establishment.  She  was  careful  not  to  say  anything 
direct  upon  this  theme,  but  in  her  heart  determined, 
if  his  visit  to  Hillcote  did  come  off,  she  would  somehow 
afford  him  an  opportunity  to  make  better  acquain 
tance  with  Agatha. 

"And,  speaking  of  Mrs.  Stanley,"  went  on  Mrs. 
Grantham,  "she  is  just  about  sailing  for  the  other 
side,  to  do  her  usual  spring  shopping  in  Paris.  Miss 
Gwynne  goes  with  her— why,  this  is  Sunday !  They 
sailed  yesterday." 

Not  a  muscle  betrayed  Davenant's  feeling. 

"  Sybil  Gwynne  has  been  very  nice  in  calling  upon 
me  two  or  three  times  lately  ;  but  I  've  always  missed 
her.  When  she  came  back  with  her  aunt  from  Vir 
ginia,  that  good-for-nothing  son  of  Mrs.  Lewiston's 
was  taken  ill  in  his  mother's  house,  and  Sybil  was  the 
only  person  he  would  allow  to  sit  by  him  in  his  con 
valescence.  His  mother,  dear  knows,  would  make 
any  invalid  wretched  by  her  presence.  Sybil  was  very 
sweet  and  unselfish,  but  when  he  recovered  she  began 
running  down  herself ;  so  Etta  Stanley  persuaded  Mrs. 
Lewiston  to  let  Sybil  go  abroad  with  her.  Of  course 


GOOD  AMERICANS  103 

people  say  Miss  Gwynne's  pale  looks  and  general  ab 
straction  are  due  to  her  approaching  marriage  with 
Captain  Cameron.  That  is  such  a  common  feature  of 
engagements !  But  no  one  knows  whether  she  is  to 
marry  him  or  not.  There  has  been  no  announcement. 
The  shopping  business  in  Paris  is  confirmatory.  If  it 
is  true,  there  goes  another  one  of  our  choice  maidens 
to  swell  the  ranks  of  the  British  aristocracy !  It  is 
astonishing  what  a  lot  of  them  we  have  lost.  And  it 's 
quite  absurd  to  say  their  matches  have  not  turned  out 
well.  There  are  as  many  prizes  and  as  many  blanks 
in  the  marriage  lottery  over  there  as  in  ours.  Sybil 
Gwynne,  for  instance,  will  be  happier  than  she  could 
have  been  with  anybody  in  New  York." 
"  Upon  what  do  you  base  your  assertion  ? " 
"  Chiefly  the  parrot-cry  of  her  set :  i  Who  is  there 
for  her  to  marry  here  ? '  Whatever  she  was  intended 
for  by  her  Maker,  shaping  and  training  have  not  fitted 
her  to  be  the  helpmate  of  a  good  American." 

THE  first  day  out  at  sea !  Sybil  quitted  the  deck  state 
room  wherein  her  friend  Etta  reclined  upon  a  broad 
bed,  covered  by  her  own  luxurious  duvet,  attended  by 
an  effusive  maid  and  the  cunning  stewardess,  and 
looking  so  yellow  and  ghastly  it  was  as  well  Mr.  Stan 
ley  kept  himself  severely  within  the  smoking-room, 
where  he  usually  played  poker  from  shore  to  shore  of 
the  Atlantic.  Leaning  over  the  rail,  the  girl  looked 
westward.  Ainslie,  who  had  come  down  to  the  dock 
to  see  her  off  at  the  last  minute,  had  casually  told  her 
that  he  'd  been  to  the  theater  the  night  before  with 
the  Carnifexes,  and  it  was  all  rubbish  to  suppose 


104  GOOD  AMERICANS 

Agatha  meant  to  marry  Peter  Davenant.  Agatha  had, 
in  fact,  as  much  as  told  him  of  her  persistent  inten 
tion  to  remain  unwed. 

"  I  once  fancied  he  was  hard  hit  by  you,"  the  young 
fellow  had  added,  in  the  midst  of  a  mob  of  swarming, 
struggling  women  carrying  bouquets,  who  had  come 
on  board  to  see  the  departure  of  their  idol,  the  great 
pianist. 

There  had  stood  the  artist,  with  his  silk  hat  set  on 
the  back  of  his  leonine  locks,  with  his  bare  throat  and 
turn-down  collar,  with  his  pale,  intellectual  face  wear 
ing  an  expression  of  abject  boredom.  Here  had 
surged  the  women.  Above  the  clack  of  tongues,  the 
babel  of  noise  from  dock  and  shipboard,  the  sonorous 
clashing  of  the  band,  the  bell  warning  loiterers  to  be 
off  had  sounded  for  the  last  time. 

"  And  you  decided  he  is  too  big  and  wise  a  man  to 
waste  himself  upon  an  idle  trifler  of  my  kind  ? "  Sybil 
had  answered,  a  bitter  note  in  her  voice. 

"  I  at  least  am  not,"  had  answered  Ainslie,  with  a 
look  of  unwonted  gravity.  "  Bon  voyage !  This  com 
ing  down  to  the  ships  that  are  sailing  for  the  other 
side  is  one  of  the  severest  tests  of  my  friendship.  If 
I  always  want  to  go  on  them,  fancy  how  I  feel  now !  " 

"  Some  President  will  have  to  send  you  out  as  sec 
retary  of  an  embassy." 

"  That  would  undo  all  these  years  of  striving.  No, 
no !  Let  me  alone,  and  in  the  course  of  time  I  may 
come  out  a  good  American." 

"  Do  go ;  you  will  get  left,"  Sybil  had  urged. 

"  Then  good-by,  once  more.  The  chief  steward  will 
keep  you  supplied  with  white  violets  till  about  Queens- 


GOOD  AMERICANS  105 

town  j  they  are  in  his  ice-box,  and  I  hope  won't  prove 
messy.  Think  of  me  sometimes." 

His  hand  clasped  hers.  The  gaze  of  his  clear  blue 
eyes  wore  a  look  of  lover's  longing. 

"  There  is  no  hope  for  me— ever  f"  he  asked  in  a 
thick  whisper. 

"  No,  no.  Good-by,  good-by  !  "  Sybil  had  answered 
—in  her  agitation  lest  he  should  be  left  putting  her 
gloved  hand  against  his  breast  to  press  him  from  the 
ship. 

To-day  she  went  over  again  what  Ainslie  had  told 
her.  The  relief  of  knowing  that  Davenant  was  free 
filled  her  with  joy.  She  almost  forgot  to  sympathize 
with  poor,  faithful,  handsome  Ainslie ;  and  for  a  time 
she  quite  forgot  Ian  Cameron,  to  whom  she  had  prom 
ised  to  give  a  final  answer  on  arriving  at  their  hotel 
in  Paris. 

This  exuberance  went  with  her  across  the  ocean, 
that,  after  two  boisterous  days,  settled  down  into 
lamblike  gentleness. 

Nearing  the  Irish  coast,  they  held  aboard  the  usual 
concert,  this  time  to  be  made  forever  memorable  to 
its  patrons.  The  ship's  company  gathered  like  bees  in 
the  saloon.  The  piano,  tuned  for  the  occasion,  was  to 
be  touched  by  the  famous  magician.  It  was  almost 
too  good  to  be  true  ! 

A  little  while  and  he  took  his  seat.  There  was 
breathless  silence  while  he  played  on,  on,  without 
break  except  to  change  the  melody.  No  matter  what 
the  theme,  his  fingers  gave  it  harmony  divine,  and 
fitted  it  to  the  magic  of  the  hour.  Afloat  on  the  wide 
ocean,  the  sound  of  the  screws  scarcely  heard  in  the 


106  GOOD  AMERICANS 

quiet  sea  that  pulsed  against  the  great  ship's  sides— 
an  hour  of  enchantment,  of  rest,  of  tender  reverie. 

When  Sybil  laid  her  down  that  night  she  had 
reached  the  conclusion  that  was  to  color  all  her  life. 
In  vain  had  poor  Ainslie's  violets  wasted  their  sweet 
ness  in  a  frozen  atmosphere. 


VII 

IDSUMMER  in  the  Berkshire  hill-coun 
try  !  Shadows  of  mountain  and  forest 
lie  for  a  moment  upon  greenest  earth, 
and  at  the  shifting  of  a  cloud-screen 
vanish.  At  a  lull  in  the  west  wind 
intense  heat  is  exhaled  upon  the  at 
mosphere  ;  the  air  of  the  pine  woods  smites  the  face 
like  a  blast  from  a  furnace  j  then  a  burst  of  invigorat 
ing  wind  comes  to  revive  fainting  humanity.  In  an 
swer  to  it,  the  elm-trees  toss  and  whisper  to  the  pines ; 
the  birches,  white  ladies  of  the  woods,  gossip  with  the 
tasseled  chestnuts.  The  red  bell-lilies  in  the  oat-fields 
tinkle  above  a  sea  of  rippled,  glossy  verdure.  In  the 
tall  meadow-grasses,  daisies,  rudbeckias,  vetch,  and 
purple  clover  bend  and  intermingle.  To  greet  the 
perfect  day,  nature  sends  forth  all  the  incense  in  her 
caskets. 

FOLLOWING  a,  forest  road  under  an  awning  formed  of 
chestnuts,  hemlocks,  flowering  linden,  hickories,  beech- 
boughs  crusted  with  tiny  nuts,  and  garlands  of  wild 
grape,  jogged  a  basket-phaeton,  leisurely  driven  by  a 
girl,  behind  whom  was  perched  a  youthful  groom  in 
undress  livery  of  cords.  The  continuity  of  dense  shade 

107 


108  GOOD  AMERICANS 

during  a  mile  or  two  was  grateful  alike  to  the  fat 
pony,  to  the  lazy  little  groom,  and  to  the  graceful 
charioteer.  Now  listening  to  the  liquid  notes  of  the 
wood-robins,  now  plunging  her  eye  into  the  bracken 
and  maidenhair  that  grew  in  masses  upon  the  road 
side,  or  else  stopping  when  the  pony  wished  to  dip  his 
nose  into  a  trough  of  ice-cold  water  fed  by  a  moss- 
grown  conduit  from  the  hills  above,  the  girl  dawdled 
away  a  pleasant  hour.  When  she  came  out  of  the 
lovely  wood  into  a  country  road  bordered  with  low 
stone  walls  overgrown  by  greenery,  the  view  opened 
nobly  before  her.  Hills  upon  hills,  mountains  be 
yond,  a  valley  with  a  winding  river,  here  and  there  a 
farm-house  overtopped  in  size  by  its  red  barn,  on  the 
steep  hillsides  pastures  with  short  herbage,  scattered 
rocks,  wild  brier-roses,  and  sweet-fern,  the  odor  of 
which  was  trodden  out  by  the  feet  of  grazing  sheep 
and  cattle.  More  daisies  in  white  sheets,  rumpled  by 
the  breeze;  more  oat-fields,  yellowish  red  with  the 
lovely  mottled  bells  that  steal  away  their  substance. 
A  bit  of  New  England,  this— placid,  verdant,  soothing 
to  eye  and  spirit.  As  good  as  old  England,  thought 
the  looker-on,  save  for  the  lack  of  habitations  blended 
by  age  with  their  surroundings.  And  far  away,  in  a 
hollow  to  the  left,  below  a  slope  of  shining  Indian 
corn,  she  saw  the  sparkle  of  a  sapphire  lake. 

"  Would  that  be  Pocasset?"  the  lady  asked  of  her 
attendant,  extending  her  whip  in  the  direction  of  this 
open  eye  of  the  landscape. 

"  Beg  pard'n,  miss,  but  I  'm  sure  I  could  n't  say," 
answered  the  prim  little  buttony  personage. 

The  absurdity  of  her  appeal  to  this  imported  speci- 


GOOD  AMERICANS  109 

men  struck  the  questioner,  and  she  laughed  aloud.  A 
countryman  in  a  checked  shirt,  and  carrying  a  scythe, 
was  met  at  this  moment.  As  he  stopped  naively  to 
enjoy  the  spectacle  of  her  equipage,  she  repeated  the 
inquiry. 

"  No,  marm ;  it  ain't,"  he  said  promptly.  "  To  git  to 
Pocasset,  you  've  got  to  turn  into  the  next  piece  of 
woods  to  yer  right.  There  's  a  mighty  sight  of  ponds 
hereabouts,  an'  all  on  'em  purty." 

"  Thank  you,'7  said  she,  feeling  in  a  tiny  purse  of 
silver  network  at  her  girdle  for  a  small  coin  to  bestow 
upon  him.  To  her  confusion,  he  colored  to  the  ears, 
and  with  a  grunt  of  refusal  of  the  dole,  passed  slouch 
ing  on  his  way. 

"  I  forget  where  I  am/'  she  said  to  herself,  blushing 
also.  "  I  hope  I  did  not  irremediably  wound  the  feel 
ings  of  that  free-born  republican.  But  I  am  sure  he 
would  not  hesitate  to  drive  a  sharp  bargain  with  me 
in  the  way  of  trade." 

The  pony,  reminded  by  a  flick  of  the  whip,  resumed 
his  easy  gait.  The  groom,  deciding  that  there  was  as 
little  exertion  in  this  method  of  earning  his  wages  as 
another,  sprang  to  his  perch.  A  mile  farther,  and  the 
turn  of  the  road  appeared,  leading  into  a  wood  of 
great  pines,  oaks,  and  towering  hemlocks. 

In  the  heart  of  these  shadowy  depths  lay  a  pool  of 
azure  tint  and  considerable  length  and  breadth.  The 
road  ended  beside  a  bank  sloping  down  to  a  sheet  of 
water  in  a  noble  grove,  cleared  of  undergrowth,  and 
verdant  with  moss  and  bracken.  So  remote  the  spot, 
it  was  a  genuine  surprise  to  the  lady  of  the  chariot  to 
espy  near  the  edge  of  this  pond  a  gipsy  fire,  over 


110  GOOD  AMEEICANS 

which  a  kettle  was  boiling.  Under  the  trees  rugs  were 
spread  around  a  hamper  suggestive  of  good  fare.  A 
few  books  had  been  left  by  their  readers  upon  the  rugs 
and  roots  of  trees.  At  a  little  distance,  a  smart  buck- 
board  stood  detached  from  horses  tied  at  a  rack ;  and 
directly  from  under  the  steep  bank  glided  a  punt  filled 
with  wild  flowers,  fishing-tackle,  and  people  in  holiday 
attire. 

"  What  a  surprise  !  "  called  a  woman's  voice.  "  We 
had  no  idea  you  had  come  up." 

"Nor  I  that  you  were  here." 

So  saying,  Sybil  Gwynne  threw  the  reins  to  her 
groom,  and  springing  from  the  phaeton,  ran  down  the 
bank  to  greet  her  friends.  She  had  known,  of  course, 
of  the  Granthams'  residence  in  this  neighborhood,  but 
had  not  counted  upon  seeing  them  at  this  spot,  or  so 
soon. 

"  We  came  up  yesterday,"  she  added.  "  Etta  has  a 
headache  from  the  heat  j  the  men  are  all  absorbed  with 
the  horses ;  and  so  I  begged  for  this  trap  to  explore  the 
country-side." 

"Then  pray  send  the  groom  home  with  it,  and 
stop  with  us  for  luncheon,"  said  Mrs.  Grantham,  who, 
in  her  crisp  shirt  and  skirt  and  shade-hat,  looked 
young  and  summer-like. 

The  other  voyagers  were  Mowbray  Grantham, 
wearing  the  shocking  old  coat  and  trousers  he  called 
his  "  fishing-suit,"  with  a  straw  hat  purchased  in  the 
nearest  village  shop ;  one  of  his  sons,  in  similar  attire ; 
Katty,  a  picture  of  jaunty  prettiness ;  and  Agatha 
Carnifex. 

"  I  suppose  if  you  did  n't  let  Etta  know  your  where- 


GOOD  AMERICANS  111 

abouts  she  would  be  alarmed/7  went  on  Katrina. 
"Do  stay.  We  can  just  as  well  leave  you  there  on  our 
return." 

The  others  chiming  in,  Sybil  let  herself  be  persuaded, 
and  the  little  groom  was  accordingly  dismissed. 

"  We  were  just  coming  ashore  to  prepare  for  lunch 
eon/'  said  Mrs.  Grantham.  "  This  is  our  own  grove, 
and  to  spend  the  day  here  is  one  of  our  favorite  hot- 
day  performances.  Lake  Pocasset,  although  in  the 
pine  woods,  is  mysteriously  cool.  How  nice  it  will  be 
to  sit  under  the  trees  and  let  you  tell  us  rustics  of 
your  grand  doings  in  the  world  beyond  the  sea !  " 

"We  arrived  in  town  day  before  yesterday,"  an 
swered  Sybil,  "  and  followed  Jack's  fancy  to  come  here 
from  the  steamer.  I  am  to  join  my  aunt  at  Newport 
at  the  end  of  the  week.  How  pretty  this  is  !  What 
an  odd  greenish  light !  It  is  a  nook  of  sweet  repose 
after  the  glare  of  the  open  road.  And  how  particu 
larly  nice,"  she  added,  turning  to  Agatha,  "  that  I  have 
found  you  with  Mrs.  Grantham  !  " 

"It  is  nice  to  be  here,"  answered  Miss  Carnifex. 
"  Our  life  at  Hillcote  is  delightful.  Katty  and  her 
brothers  and  I  form  a  band  of  lawless  vagabonds, 
determined  to  get  everything  that  outdoor  life  can 
give  us,  at  any  expense  of  looks." 

"Now  for  work,"  said  Mrs.  Grantham,  briskly. 
"We  will  lay  the  cloth  first,  and  unpack  the  cold 
meat  and  salads.  I  shall  trust  no  one  with  the  coffee, 
and  my  husband  will  care  for  that  wine-cellar  of  his  in 
the  hollow  of  a  tree.  I  think,  Jim,"  she  said  to  her  boy, 
"  you  may  as  well  not  attempt  to  broil  our  fish  till  you 
see  whether  the  canoeists  bring  in  something  better." 


112  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"  Mr.  Davenant  was  lying  on  his  back  in  the  bottom, 
looking  up  into  the  sky,"  said  Jim,  with  decision ;  "  and 
Bob  can't  catch  anything  to  save  him.  I  vote  to  cook 
what  fish  we  have,  and  not  to  depend  upon  those 
loafers." 

"  Mr.  Davenant !  "  said  the  last  comer. 

"Yes;  he  is  with  us  for  a  much-needed  vacation," 
answered  Katrina.  "  There,  Jim,  is  a  beautiful  bed  of 
hickory  embers  on  the  stones.  Jiin  is  an  old  woods 
man,  Miss  Gwynne,  as  you  will  say  when  you  taste 
his  broiled  bass.  My  boys  had  a  camp  here  for  a 
month  one  summer,  and  cooked  for  themselves  all  that 
we  did  not  fetch  them  from  home  when  we  drove  over 
to  see  whether  they  were  dying  of  starvation." 

Mowbray  Grantham,  who  took  his  ease  beside  Sybil 
while  the  others  worked,  had  leisure  to  observe  the 
sudden  vivid  illumination  of  her  beautiful  fair  face. 

His  wife's  invitation  to  her  to  join  them  had  not 
been  seconded  by  him  with  much  zeal.  He  had  always 
looked  upon  Sybil  Gwynne  as  a  Parisian  version  of 
Undine.  Now  he  detected  in  her  expression  some 
thing  that  lent  to  it  human  charm.  In  her  simple 
morning  frock  of  blue-and-white-striped  cotton,  with 
a  sailor-hat  of  white  straw,  and  a  knot  of  sweet-peas 
in  her  white  belt,  she  looked  like  a  charming  school 
girl,  glad  yet  shy.  "After  all,"  he  reflected,  "who 
shall  say  that  a  pretty  woman  is  not  a  good  thing  to 
look  at,  anywhere  ? " 

A  canoe,  propelled  in  leisurely  fashion  by  Bob 
Grantham,  and  containing  a  recumbent  figure  in  flan 
nels  with  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  now  came  in  sight 
around  the  bank.  A  shout  from  Jim  to  his  brother, 


GOOD  AMERICANS  113 

summoning  him  to  help  in  cookery,  aroused  the 
lounger,  who,  pulling  himself  up,  looked  about  him  in 
contrition. 

"Are  we  here?"  he  said.  "Bob,  you  rascal,  you 
betrayed  me  !  I  had  no  idea  we  were  at  the  landing- 
place." 

"Too  hot  for  apologies— too  hot  for  anything," 
quoth  the  recreant,  steering  the  craft  skilfully  inshore. 

Another  moment,  and  Davenant  stood  in  blank  as 
tonishment  in  Sybil's  presence.  The  drowsy  look, 
passing  from  his  eyes,  was  succeeded  by  one  of  bril 
liant  welcome.  Whence  she  had  come  he  asked  not, 
but  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  looked  into  her  face  as 
if  he  could  never  have  enough  of  it ;  then,  remember 
ing  the  presence  of  outsiders,— although  these  were 
busy  with  hospitable  cares,— stood  back,  and  curbed 
his  fervor. 

Constraining  himself  to  speak  instead  of  shouting 
for  joy,  he  asked  her  the  usual  questions  about  her 
arrival  in  the  country,  and  told  her,  in  return,  that 
having  himself  come  up  the  day  before  yesterday  to 
be  Mrs.  Grantham's  guest,  for  two  days  only,  it  was 
his  wish  to  remain  at  Hillcote  for  a  week. 

"  We  shall  be  quite  near  you,  then,"  said  Sybil,  art 
lessly.  "  Perhaps  we  '11  be  meeting  every  day." 

Davenant,  not  trusting  himself  to  discuss  this  con 
tingency,  now  yielded  to  a  call  to  luncheon,  that, 
spread  on  a  cloth  upon  the  ground,  afforded  dainties 
perfected  for  such  occasions  by  long  experience.  The 
broiled  bass,  so  recently  transferred  from  the  "  glassy, 
cool,  translucent  wave,"  were  praised  and  enjoyed  in 
a  way  to  reward  the  two  cooks  for  the  heat  of  their 


114  GOOD  AMERICANS 

endeavor.  The  claret,  the  black  coffee  served  after 
ward,  all  details,  carefully  sustained  the  general  pitch 
of  excellence. 

When  they  had  finished,  Mr.  Grantham  retired  to 
lounge  upon  a  Highland  plaid  stretched  over  a  bed  of 
bracken,  and  there  smoke  his  cigar,  while  Katty  read 
aloud  to  him  from  a  book  of  Rudyard  Kipling's  prose. 
Mrs.  Grantham,  retaining  the  faithful  Jim  as  her 
aide-de-camp,  dismissed  the  others—  "anywhere,"  she 
said. 

At  this,  Agatha  Carnifex  challenged  Bob  to  return 
with  her  to  a  spot  in  the  woods  where  from  the  boat 
she  had  seen  a  curious  and  superb  bank  of  tawny 
fungi  freckled  with  crimson  spots. 

"May  I  go,  too?"  asked  Sybil. 

"You  will  only  soil  that  pretty  gown,"  said  Mrs. 
Grantham,  practically;  "it  is  all  boggy  where  they 
are  going.  Take  my  advice :  keep  cool  and  clean. 
Get  into  the  canoe,  and  let  Mr.  Davenant  show  you 
the  bed  of  water-lilies  at  the  end  of  the  lake.  All  the 
rest  of  us  have  enjoyed  it  this  morning,  and  you  really 
should  not  miss  the  spectacle." 

"Yes;  do  go,"  urged  Agatha.  "It  is  the  finest 
flower-show  you  will  have  seen  since  Regent's  Park." 

Sybil  still  hesitated. 

"  Will  you  come  ? "  asked  Davenant,  in  a  voice  that 
reached  her  ear  alone. 

She  yielded.  Had  anything  forewarned  Sybil  that 
she  would  be  placed  in  this  situation,  there  might  have 
been  some  holding  back ;  but  the  unexpected  had  con 
quered  her ;  it  seemed  all  so  natural. 

When,  on  stepping  into  the  canoe,  she  laid  her  bare 


GOOD  AMERICANS  115 

little  white  hand  in  his  sunburnt  one,  Sybil  felt  what 
was  coming  toward  her  on  swift  wings  of  destiny. 
They  paddled  off,  she  sitting  in  the  bow  and  facing 
him  in  speechless  pleasure,  until,  at  the  extreme  end 
of  the  lake,  the  canoe  ran  into  a  floating  field  of  starry, 
snow-white  blooms,  golden  at  heart,  exhaling  richest 
fragrance,  their  chalices  cradled  upon  broad,  moist 
plaques  of  green. 

Under  the  nearest  bank  grew  rushes,  tall  and  vigor 
ous.  The  air,  steeped  in  perfume  and  filled  with  the 
errant  particles  of  summer  growth,  was  also  melodious 
with  the  song  of  wood-birds,  and  resonant  with  the 
hum  of  bright-winged  circling  insects.  The  symphony 
of  midsummer  was  at  its  climax. 

"  Oh,  let  us  stay  here  !  "  she  cried  involuntarily,  and 
a  flash  of  triumph  leaped  into  his  eyes. 

While  they  lingered  he  shifted  his  place  a  little,  at 
the  other  end  of  the  canoe,  to  watch  her  more  com 
posedly.  They  laughed  together  like  children  at  the 
rocking  of  their  frail  craft,  and,  once  at  rest  again, 
began  the  babbling  interchange  of  respective  experi 
ence  since  they  had  parted,  just  as  if  no  cloud  of  dis 
trust  had  ever  come  between  them.  He  explained  to 
her  how,  his  visit  to  Hillcote  having  been  twice  before 
interrupted  by  business  calls,  he  had  come  very  near 
missing  this  chance  also— and  then  where  would  that 
have  left  him  ?  How  he  had  believed  her  to  be  stop 
ping  in  the  Engadine  until  the  autumn;  how  nothing 
was  further  from  his  dreams  than  this  surprise  of  her 
presence  beneath  an  ancient  pine-tree  on  the  bank  of 
Lake  Pocasset  j  how,  for  him,  life  since  he  saw  her  last 
had  gone  on  in  the  usual  humdrum  fashion ;  he  had 


116  GOOD  AMERICANS 

worked,  worked,  worked, — as  he  expected  always  to 
have  to  do,— without  other  relaxations  than  those 
possible  in  a  hot  town  when  every  one  excepting 
toilers  has  gone  to  the  country. 

Sybil's  eyes  shone  upon  him  with  soft  compassion. 
She  tried  to  realize  this  existence  of  his,  so  unlike  any 
thing  in  her  acquaintance  with  other  men.  She 
thought  of  the  debonair  idlers  she  had  seen  in  Lon 
don  and  Paris,  and  New  York's  great  mill  of  workers 
without  perspective  seemed  pitiless. 

"  But  you  have  some  diversions,  surely  ? "  she  asked 
in  a  sad  voice. 

"Enough  and  to  spare,"  he  answered  with  a  smile ; 
"  but  not,  probably,  of  the  kind  you  would  recognize 
as  such." 

"It  sounded  so  dreary!"  she  exclaimed  apologeti 
cally. 

"  Not  dreary  if  one  faces  it  with  hope  in  his  heart, 
and  courage.  And,  you  must  remember,  it  is  my  life. 
Even  before  I  met  you  I  had  my  bright  moments  and 
rewards.  Since  then—" 

Her  eyes  drooped  before  his.  With  one  hand  trail 
ing  in  the  water,  she  drew  to  her  a  long  green  stem 
crowned  with  the  peerless  blossom  of  New  England 
lakes.  Davenant  went  on  : 

"  I  don't  like  to  tell  you  what  a  black  time  I  passed 
through  after  I  heard  you  were  going  to  marry  that 
man  Cameron." 

"  But  I  am  not ! "  she  exclaimed  with  enchanting 
disregard  of  consequences.  "  I  have  no  idea  of  doing 
so." 

"  You  have  come  back  to  me  heart-whole  ? " 


GOOD  AMERICANS  117 

"To— to  America,"  she  faltered,  with  an  effort  to 
recall  her  rash  encouragement. 

"To  me— to  me!"  he  cried  passionately.  "I  'm  a 
tyro,  I  suppose,  and  my  brain  is  in  a  tumult,  and  I  am 
desperately  anxious  for  you  to  love  me  as  I  love  you 
—as  I  've  loved  you  ever  since  we  met.  But  I  don't 
want  to  ask  you  for  yourself  if  you  're  not  ready  to 
hear  me.  I  'd  rather  you  'd  silence  me  now,  and  give 
me  a  chance  hereafter.  If  you  '11  give  me  that  chance 
I  '11  do  anything  to  win  you." 

Sybil's  mouth  curved  in  a  happy  smile. 

"Had  you  rather  put  it  off?"  she  said,  more  mis 
tress  of  herself  than  he  was  master  of  his  palpitating 
speech. 

MRS.  GRANTHAM,  who  had  packed  her  baskets  and 
ordered  her  horses  put  to  the  buckboard,  stood  upon 
the  bank,  gathering  her  chickens  beneath  her  wings. 

"  It  feels  and  smells  like  a  thunder-storm,"  she  said. 
"  I  really  think,  Mowbray,  you  had  better  let  one  of  the 
boys  go  in  the  punt  and  call  those  two  to  come  back." 

"The  storm  is  probably  a  long  way  off,  my  dear," 
said  her  husband ;  "  and  no  doubt  Miss  Gwynne  and 
Davenant  will  be  coming  presently." 

"If  we  are  caught,  mother,  we  can  stop  in  that 
empty  house  behind  the  poplars  on  the  main  road," 
said  Master  Jim  •  "  and  there  's  a  shed  for  the  trap 
and  horses." 

With  a  distant  rumble  of  thunder,  a  little  shiver  in 
the  branches  of  the  wood  began. 

"  You  see,  Mowbray !  I  insist  that  you  go  and  call 
them,  Jim,"  said  Mrs.  Grantham. 


118  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"  They  are  there/'  said  Miss  Carnif  ex,  calmly,  as  the 
missing  ones  came  in  sight. 

The  canoe,  kept  at  the  lake  for  his  diversion  by  Mr. 
Grantham,  was  quickly  deserted  by  its  latest  occupants 
and  put  under  shelter.  The  party  with  hurrying 
footsteps  climbed  into  the  buckboard,  and  the  horses 
trotted  off.  When  they  reached  the  ridge  of  the  hill 
above  the  lake,  the  lightning  had  begun  to  play  daz- 
zlingly,  lacing  the  branches  of  the  roadside  trees. 

"  Faster,  papa !  "  cried  Katty,  who,  with  one  of  her 
brothers,  sat  beside  her  father  on  the  front  seat.  "  I 
love  this  tearing  along  into  an  advancing  storm. 
You  '11  surely  get  to  the  deserted  house  before  the  rain 
catches  us." 

All  nature  was  in  commotion.  The  tall  grass  and 
flowers  of  the  wayside  bent,  and  were  bowed  to  earth. 
The  surface  of  the  fields  of  oats  and  corn  showed  deep 
dimples  from  the  wind.  A  few  drops  fell.  Thunder 
pealed  again  with  a  deep,  glorious  rumble,  and  again 
the  lightning  flashed,  this  time  with  a  blue  glare. 

Sybil,  sitting  between  Agatha  and  Davenant,  shrank 
and  trembled  irrepressibly. 

"You  are  not  afraid?"  said  Davenant,  inclining  to 
ward  her  tenderly. 

Agatha,  who  had  sat  erect  gazing  toward  the  storm, 
seemed  to  have  heard  nothing ;  but  the  next  livid  flash 
from  the  heavily  charged  cloud,  that,  as  they  drove 
under  the  shed  of  the  deserted  house,  struck  one  of 
the  row  of  poplars  before  it,  showed  Davenant  the 
expression  of  her  face. 

When,  a  deluge  of  rain  over,  the  sun  shone  out  into 
the  warm,  humid  air,  they  resumed  their  drive. 


GOOD  AMERICANS  119 

"  This  is  a  true  New  England  frolic  of  Dame  Nature," 
said  Mr.  Grantham.  "  I  wonder  which  was  the  most 
frightened  of  our  party  ? " 

"  Not  I,"  said  Katty.  "  Mama  was  a  little,  for  I  saw 
her  clutch  Jim's  coat-sleeve,  and  Miss  Gwynne  looked 
rather  white." 

"  So  did  Miss  Cam  if  ex,"  said  Jim  Grantham.  "  I 
think  she  's  the  whitest  still." 

"James!"  said  his  mother,  reprovingly;  "never 
make  personal  remarks." 

DURING  the  rest  of  his  holiday  Davenant  walked  upon 
air.  Thanks  to  the  isolation  of  the  two  houses  in  a 
quiet  neighborhood,  daily  opportunity  was  aiforded 
him  to  see  his  beloved,  and  sun  himself  in  the  radi 
ance  of  her  smiles.  The  necessity  enjoined  upon  him 
by  her  of  keeping  their  affair  to  themselves  until  she 
could  announce  it  formally  to  her  Aunt  Lewiston  lent 
the  charm  of  mystery  and  device  to  their  meetings. 
In  the  glorification  of  his  spirits,  he  took  the  trouble 
to  be  extremely  polite  to  Etta  Stanley,  who,  to  please 
her  husband,  had  come  into  this  barren  district,  but 
was  longing  to  leave  it  for  Newport.  Mrs.  Stanley,  re 
voking  her  earlier  decision,  now  announced  that  Dave 
nant  had  a  great  deal  in  him.  She  was  prepared  to 
launch  with  him  upon  one  of  her  shadowy  flirtations, 
wherein  the  man  had  little  to  do  besides  following  her 
in  public  and  appearing  to  be  devoted.  But  to  this 
Davenant  did  not  respond ;  and,  luckily  for  him,  a 
friend  of  her  husband's,  a  connoisseur  in  horse-flesh, 
whose  wife  lived  in  permanence  abroad,  came  up  just 
then  to  stop  for  a  week  at  Stanley  Hall.  This  gentle- 


120  GOOD  AMERICANS 

man,  well  understanding  how  to  dawdle  unemotion 
ally  after  his  hostess,  and  save  her  from  having  to 
go  about  with  Jack,  relieved  the  situation  for  Dav- 
enant. 

Mrs.  Grantham,  as  we  have  seen,  the  most  good- 
natured  of  souls,  was  disconcerted  by  the  new  arrange 
ment.  She  admired  Sybil,  but  loved  Agatha ;  and  on 
the  day  following  the  luncheon  at  Lake  Pocasset, 
Agatha  had  terminated  her  visit,  and  gone  to  keep  her 
father  company  at  their  own  summer  home  in  New 
Jersey,  near  Morristown.  After  her  departure  it  was 
evident  to  the  casual  observer  that  Davenant  could 
never  really  have  cared  otherwise  than  as  a  friend  for 
the  admirable  Miss  Carnifex.  He  was  too  cheerful, 
too  emphatic  in  indorsing  praises  of  her,  too  calm  in 
her  absence,  too— everything  but  what  Katrina  had 
intended  him  to  be.  And  at  the  end  of  the  second 
day  after  the  encounter  with  Sybil  the  keen-sighted 
Katty  told  her  mother  that  she  thought,  and  Jim 
thought,  "anybody  with  half  an  eye"  could  see  that 
Mr.  Davenant  was  "  dead  gone  "  upon  Miss  Gwynne. 
Katrina,  struggling  with  vexed  unbelief,  had  to  suc 
cumb  when  Jim  told  her  he  had  seen  the  couple  out 
in  the  huckleberry  pasture,  sitting  upon  a  boulder,  and 
looking  at  the  sunset,  hand  in  hand. 

"  That 's  not  all,  mother,"  added  the  boy,  with 
deeper  excitement,  his  cherub  cheeks  ruddy,  his  eyes 
distended,  as  he  whispered  something  in  her  ear. 

"  James  Grantham ! "  began  his  mother,  then 
stopped  short.  So  much  for  her  idyl  of  Hillcote, 
wherein  Davenant  and  her  favorite  Agatha  were  to 
have  played  the  leading  parts! 


GOOD  AMERICANS  121 

THUS  Davenant  entered  upon  the  kingdom  of  his 
hopes.  In  the  fullness  of  his  satisfaction  there  was  no 
alloy.  This  great  prize  of  life  that  had  come  to  him 
seemed,  like  the  lesser  ones  preceding  it,  his  due.  He 
was  proud,  exultant,  in  feeling  that  his  manhood  was 
about  to  be  made  complete. 


VIII 


OLSTOI  has  said  that  a  newly  married 
man  is  like  one  who,  having  been 
charmed  with  the  graceful  and  joyous 
motion  of  a  boat  upon  the  sea,  after 
ward  embarks  in  it.  He  then  feels 
the  difference  between  contemplation 
and  action.  It  is  not  enough  for  him  to  sit  still  and 
avoid  rocking  the  boat  ;  he  must  keep  on  the  lookout, 
be  accurate  in  following  the  course,  mindful  of  wind 
and  weather,  and  is  himself  obliged  to  propel  the 
heavy  oars. 

Nothing  of  this  had  as  yet  suggested  itself  to  Peter 
Davenant  as,  on  their  honeymoon  journey,  he  sailed 
with  Sybil  out  of  the  Bosporus  for  a  cruise  in  the 


The  violent  opposition  of  Mrs.  Lewiston  to  their 
engagement,  which,  accepting  no  compromise,  required 
Sybil  to  break  with  him  or  forfeit  the  shelter  of  her 
home,  had  precipitated  matters.  After  a  stormy  week 
at  her  aunt's  house  in  Newport,  the  girl  had  yielded 
to  his  solicitation  to  be  married  quietly  in  church 
there,  and  go  abroad  until  her  aunt's  excitement  should 
in  some  degree  subside.  In  this  decision  she  was  sec 
onded  by  her  cousin  St.  Clair,  who,  attending  her  at 

122 


GOOD  AMERICANS  123 

the  altar,  not  only  gave  her  away  in  marriage,  but 
presented  the  bride  with  a  couple  of  strings  of  pearls 
more  befitting  a  princess  of  the  blood  than  the  un- 
dowered  wife  of  a  hard-working  lawyer.  Others  of 
Sybil's  friends  who  would  have  liked  to  be  present 
were  debarred  by  the  hasty  nature  of  the  proceedings. 
Agatha  Carnifex,  the  Granthams,  and  Ainslie  sent 
gifts  and  good  wishes.  The  affair,  a  nine  days7  won 
der  of  the  newspapers,  was  in  time  superseded  by  an 
other  "  social  incident "  offering  opportunity  for  more 
flamboyant  head-lines. 

QUICKLY  wooed,  quickly  wed,  Sybil  was  like  the  crea 
ture  of  a  dream.  Not  an  acquaintance  of  her  aunt's 
and  Mrs.  Stanley's  way  of  thinking  had  regarded  her 
action  as  other  than  the  result  of  impassioned  folly. 
People  who  knew  better  commended  her  for  courage 
and  independence  in  asserting,  at  two-and-twenty,  her 
right  to  the  husband  of  her  heart.  Croakers  said  this 
was  the  "  fine,  enlightened  stride  "  of  new  womanhood. 
And,  lastly,  those  familiar  with  Mrs.  Lewiston's  tem 
per  when  aroused  by  opposition  averred  that  Sybil, 
poor  creature,  had  really  nowhere  else  to  turn. 

The  next  most  serious  difficulty  in  their  path  had 
been  Davenant's  adjustment  of  his  affairs  to  take  her 
away  for  a  couple  of  months  from  the  annoyances  of 
home.  When,  this  finally  accomplished,  the  world  was 
all  before  them  where  to  choose,  a  memory  of  their 
first  talk  decided  both  upon  a  voyage  in  the  Levant. 

From  Paris  they  had  taken  the  Orient  Express  to 
Constantinople,  and  finding  it  still  too  hot  to  do  more 
than  skim  through  the  sights  of  that  brilliant,  dirty 


124  GOOD  AMERICANS 

town,  had  there  boarded  a  Russian  steamer  bound  for 
Smyrna  and  Alexandria,  but  intending  to  bring  up  en 
route  at  the  Piraeus. 

It  was  a  mellow  day  of  autumn  when  their  big,  well- 
fitted  modern  vessel  broke  away  from  the  throng  of 
little  rowboats,  caiques,  and  launches  besetting  her 
sides  as  long  as  she  lay  at  anchor  in  the  channel,  and 
up  to  the  last  minute  embarking  passengers  and  mails. 
The  numbers  and  colors  of  these  crafts  recalled  to 
Sybil  the  course  at  Henley  regatta  between  the  races. 
Deafened  by  the  shouts  of  boatmen  and  stevedores, 
amused  by  the  water  pageant,  our  pair  of  travelers 
hung  over  the  rail  like  two  children,  taking  note  of 
all  they  saw.  A  last  impatient  whistle  had  hurried  up 
the  gangway  steps  the  family  of  a  Turkish  general, 
whose  staff,  on  taking  leave  of  him  to  return  to  their 
launch,  were  kissed  in  a  patriarchal  fashion  while 
bending  at  his  knee.  His  chief  wife,  a  formless  figure 
in  a  dark-green-silk  night-gown,  with  a  veil  of  striped 
yellow  gauze,  white-cotton  stockings,  and  slippers 
without  heels,  presently  established  herself  on  deck, 
where,  after  straightening  the  tassel  of  her  husband's 
fez,  she  proceeded  to  eat  sweetmeats  held  up  in  a  sil 
ver  box  by  a  squatting,  amber-tinted  slave-girl  with 
white  draperies  and  eyes  like  a  faithful  dog's. 

Two  little  servant-girls  in  pink  cotton,  with  veils  of 
white  cheese-cloth,  ran  hither  and  thither,  carrying 
silver  cups  of  water,  and  holding  boxes  of  cigarettes, 
in  readiness  for  their  mistress's  call.  The  mother-in- 
law,  a  sallow  old  woman  dressed  in  black,  with  bright 
eyes  and  a  jolly  laugh,  took  her  seat  behind  the 
cruncher  of  many  sweets;  while  the  son  and  heir,  a 


GOOD  AMERICANS  125 

small  boy  in  green-velvet  jacket  and  knickerbockers, 
with  a  fez  over  his  droll  little  foxy  face,  wandered  in 
cessantly,  after  the  manner  of  his  kind,  in  custody  of 
a  Turkish  tutor  visibly  alarmed  by  the  vagaries  of  so 
important  a  charge.  High-class  Armenians ;  families 
returning  from  a  summer  at  Therapia  to  their  homes 
in  Egypt— among  them  a  brown  mother  with  a  flock 
of  little  daughters  like  brown  birds;  an  English 
couple ;  a  German  professor  and  his  wife ;  a  bride  from 
Odessa  with  her  Greek  husband  (this  officer  wearing, 
despite  the  sultry  atmosphere,  his  full-dress  uniform 
and  tufted  hat,  and  spurs) ;  a  dark-eyed  belle  from 
Syria,  dressed  like  a  French  fashion-plate,  on  the  re 
turn  with  her  papa  and  mama  from  the  Turkish  New 
port  ;  a  coquettish  young  Rumanian  lady  guarded  by 
her  white-haired  Parisian  husband ;  more  Turks,  who 
kept  aloof ;  some  Alexandrian  citizens ;  and  a  group 
of  handsome  Russian  officers,  made  up  the  ship's  tale 
of  first-cabin  passengers. 

The  lower  forward  deck  of  the  steamer  was  even 
fuller  of  cosmopolitan  variety.  Our  Americans,  up 
above,  surveyed  the  scene  with  eager  interest.  Before 
the  ship  left  the  Bosporus  this  space  had  been  con 
verted  into  a  focus  of  Oriental  color  and  animation. 
Lounging  on  mattresses  covered  with  many-hued 
stuffs  and  rugs,  a  veiled  harem  occupied  the  center. 
About  it  were  seen  Turks  at  ease ;  Greek  and  Arme 
nian  peddlers ;  Arab  women  and  babies ;  a  band  of 
sturdy  Montenegrins,  with  shepherd  coats  of  the  nat 
ural  tint  of  wool,  leggings,  and  small  caps  embroidered 
on  the  crown,  their  belts  stuck  with  knives  and  pis 
tols;  Circassians  in  sheepskin  shubas ;  sad-eyed  Ar- 


126  GOOD  AMERICANS 

menian  merchants  in  long  black  robes  and  crimson 
f ezzes  j  a  solitary  muzhik  in  black  velveteens,  with  a 
scarlet  shirt  and  sash;  and  two  Russian  pilgrims  to 
Jerusalem,  with  scrips  and  staffs  and  cross-gartered 
legs,  lying  asleep  upon  the  boards,  their  red  beards 
turned  upward  to  the  sky. 

The  luggage  of  these  travelers  was  as  picturesque 
as  its  owners— bales,  saddle-bags,  carpet-sacks,  and 
cushions  of  variegated  hues  and  rich  texture  ;  grass- 
woven  baskets  heaped  with  grapes  and  peaches  j  melons 
hugged  under  the  arm ;  water-bottles,  jugs  and  trays 
of  pottery  and  beaten  brass;  a  medley  of  gleaming 
metal,  embroidered  stuffs,  and  sheenf ul  silk.  So  de 
lighted  was  Sybil  with  each  new  type,  costume,  or 
grouping  that,  her  eye  detached  from  its  surroundings, 
Davenant  could  with  difficulty  induce  her  to  come 
away  with  him  to  pace  the  length  of  the  deck,  and  look 
back  at  the  marvelous  beauty  of  the  vanishing  city. 

Melting  in  the  effulgent  sunshine  of  an  unclouded 
heaven,  they  saw  vanish  towers,  minarets,  mosques, 
palaces  of  piiik-and- white  fretwork,  terraced  gardens, 
cypress-groves,  ancient  crenelated  walls  dipping  into 
the  water,  and  the  towering  domes  of  St.  Sophia.  As 
they  steamed  out  of  the  Bosporus  a  bird  winging  its 
way  across  the  water,  which  at  times  it  touched,  at 
tracted  Sybil's  attention. 

"  That  petrel  of  the  Bosporus,"  said,  in  good  English, 
the  German  professor,  who  stood  near  them  with  his 
wife,  "  is  almost  the  most  restless  fellow  extant.  The 
Turks  give  him  the  poetical  name  of  l  the  lost  soul ' ; 
but  my  wife  and  I  have  bestowed  a  better  title :  we 
call  him  i  the  American  en  voyage.' " 


GOOD  AMERICANS  127 

"  My  dear ! "  said  the  lady,  blushing,  and  touching 
her  husband's  coat-sleeve. 

"Oh!  Ah!  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  he,  peni 
tently.  "  Of  course  I  supposed  you  to  be  English.  I 
should  never  have  taken  you  for  Americans,  you  know," 
he  ended  radiantly. 

"  Worse  and  worse !  "  whispered  Sybil,  as  the  two 
couples  parted  to  resume  their  march.  "  Don't  let  that 
eloquent  face  of  yours  show  you  mind  it.  If  you  were 
as  old  a  traveler  as  I  am,  you  'd  be  accustomed  to  that 
pleasantry." 

"  I  can  be  vexed  with  no  one  in  such  a  scene,"  he 
said,  laughing.  "  Henceforward  every  inch  of  our  way 
is  through  the  classics.  I  must  begin  to  furbish  up 
my  memories.  There  are  two  questions  I  forbid  you 
to  ask  me :  where  Homer  was  born,  and  where  was 
ancient  Troy." 

"  Just  what  I  meant  to  do  !  "  she  said.  "  If  you  don't 
tell  me  all  you  know,  or  don't  know,  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  appeal  to  our  friend  the  professor,  who,  I  can  see, 
is  giving  Ms  wife  a  flood  of  information." 

"  I  '11  swear  I  won't  be  forced  into  the  dragoman 
business !  But  I  '11  tell  you  this :  there  was  once  a 
German  youngster  in  a  wine-shop  who,  after  listening 
to  the  talk  of  some  students  about  the  Iliad,  made  up 
his  mind  that  he  would  like  some  day  to  journey  the 
'way  we  are  going  now.  In  after  years,  when  he  had 
amassed  gold  and  learning,  he  came  to  the  Helles 
pont-" 

"  That  we  shall  pass  at  two  in  the  morning !  "  cried 
she,  in  a  vexed  tone. 

"  —and,  taking  up  his  abode  at  Hissarlik,  dug  and 


128  GOOD  AMERICANS 

dug  till  he  had  uncovered  seven  Troys.  Out  of  that 
collection  you  may  take  your  choice  of  the  real  one." 

"  Don't  be  provoking !  Be  sure  I  sha/n't  ask  you 
any  more  questions.  Let  us  agree  to  see  it  all  now, 
and  read  about  it  when  we  go  home." 

"  It  occurs  to  me,  incidentally,  that  must  be  Mount 
Ida,"  said  he,  pointing  over  at  the  rosy  snow  of  a  sum 
mit  rising  beyond  the  brown  hills  of  the  Asian  coast. 
"  But  never  mind  what  it  is,  so  long  as  we  ;re  here  to 
gether,  far  from  the  world,  sailing,  sailing  to  the  south. 
Sybil,  I  did  not  think  there  could  be  such  happiness." 

"Nor  I.  I  have  only  one  regret— that  this  time  a 
year  ago  we  had  never  even  met." 

"  A  bagatelle  !  "  he  exclaimed,  his  voice  thrilling  joy 
fully.  "Why,  we  were  traveling  to  meet  each  other 
then ! " 

AND  now,  the  splendor  of  sunlight  waning  with  the 
day's  decline,  a  violet  mist  gathered  in  the  hollows  of 
the  Asian  highlands.  Along  the  western  horizon  the 
blue  was  lost  in  gold.  A  fresher  breeze  arose,  lashing 
the  surface  of  Marmora  into  lively  billows,  over  which 
the  deep-laden  ship  passed  on  a  steady  keel.  As  the 
sun  forsook  them,  a  long,  wailing  cry  arose : 

"  Allah  AHar  !     To  your  knees  !  " 

It  was  a  muezzin,  who,  stationing  himself  upon  the 
bridge  over  the  forward  deck,  reminded  the  faithful 
of  the  hour  of  prayer.  Scattered  about  the  vessel,  the 
Mussulmans,  everywhere  kneeling  upon  little  carpets, 
prostrated  themselves  toward  Mecca. 

Sybil  rebelled  against  the  call  to  dinner  in  the 
saloon. 


GOOD  AMERICANS  129 

"This  is  too  beautiful  to  leave,"  she  said,  holding 
back. 

A  stout  Frenchwoman,  with  mustachios,  and  carry 
ing  a  pet  dog  under  her  arm,  passing  the  couple  at 
this  moment,  smiled  at  them  benignaiitly. 

"  Oh  la  jeimesse ! "  she  murmured  with  a  rich  sigh. 
"  One  of  these  days,  madame,  you  too  will  be  hungry 
for  your  dinner." 

u  Horrid  thing !  "  said  the  girl,  petulantly,  when  the 
French  lady  had  gone  on. 

"I  'm  afraid  I  am  hungry  now— awfully  so,"  said 
Peter,  guiltily. 

"  Then  for  your  sake  I  '11  go  in.  But  we  are  to  sit 
up  on  deck  to  enter  the  Dardanelles.  I  could  n't  bear 
to  miss  the  Hellespont." 

Their  evening  meal,  served  at  the  captain's  table, 
had  apparently  been  gathered  by  the  steward  from  all 
ports  of  the  vessel's  route :  fish  and  mutton  from  Con 
stantinople  5  partridges  from  the  Piraeus  j  JcalatcM  (the 
white  rolls  of  Russia)  and  fowls  from  Odessa ;  sweets 
from  Syra;  wines,  red  and  white,  from  Bessarabia; 
fruits,  nuts,  and  resined  white  wine  from  the  Levant 
in  general  j  and,  to  conclude,  Lilliputian  cups  of  Turk 
ish  coffee,  turbid  with  grounds  and  yielding  rich 
aroma. 

"That  was  a  pleasant  little  company,"  said  Sybil, 
afterward.  "  How  they  all  lent  themselves  to  good- 
fellowship  !  Imagine  a  lot  of  our  countrymen,  under 
like  circumstances,  loitering  at  table  for  the  sake  of 
merry  chat ! " 

"  Other  countries,  other  conditions,"  said  her  hus 
band. 


130  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"You  did  not  like  my  saying  that,  Peter.  I  see  I 
must  never  find  fault  with  the  land  of  the  eagle  and 
the  scream." 

"Perhaps  I  don't  want  your  thoughts  to  shape 
themselves  that  way,  because,  when  we  go  back— 

"Don't— don't  speak  of  going  back!"  cried  she. 
"  I  want  nothing  to  shadow  this  lovely,  blessed  voy 
age." 

"  There  should  be  no  shadows  about  our  thoughts 
of  home,  my  darling,"  he  answered  bravely,  but  at 
heart  a  trifle  hurt. 

They  strolled  forward  again  to  look  down  into  the 
third-class  deck.  Under  the  electric  light  in  the  rig 
ging,  the  groups,  who  had  for  the  most  part  already 
disposed  themselves  to  slumber,  presented  a  new  med 
ley  of  picturesque  attitudes.  One  of  the  women  of 
the  harem,  a  slender  girl,  had  thrown  her  bare  brown 
arms,  covered  with  silver  bracelets,  above  her  veiled 
head.  The  old  crone  who  guarded  them  was  mixing 
coffee  for  a  big  bearded  Turk  sitting  on  a  cushion, 
drawing  at  his  narghile  in  its  gold-embossed  glass 
vessel.  Amid  a  cluster  of  bag-trousered  Mussulmans, 
whose  hands,  held  behind  them,  forever  toyed  with 
strings  of  wooden  or  amber  beads,  stood  a  dashing 
figure,  smoking  a  cigarette,  dressed  in  the  costume  of 
a  cavass  (the  Turkish  soldier  serving  as  guard  at  the 
embassies).  His  jacket,  thickly  wrought  with  gold, 
his  full  trousers  of  crimson  silk  tucked  into  long, 
wrinkled  boots,  the  embroidered  holsters  of  his  pistols, 
and  the  mustachios  curling  about  a  hardy,  handsome 
face,  lent  him  an  air  both  gay  and  martial. 

"He  was  but  recently  a  famous  Montenegrin  rob- 


GOOD  AMERICANS  131 

ber,"  explained  one  of  the  ship's  officers  standing  near 
the  Americans.  "  They  are  quite  in  demand  as  ser 
vants  at  the  embassies." 

With  their  chairs  in  a  quiet  corner,  Davenant  and 
Sybil  sat  upon  deck  until,  about  midnight,  the  pharos 
of  Gallipolis  came  in  sight.  As  they  approached  it, 
Sybil,  running  forward,  stood  under  the  shelter  of  the 
captain's  bridge  to  peer  out  into  the  darkness.  Above 
her  towered  the  mast,  which,  with  its  yard,  both  black 
in  the  shadow  of  an  electric  beacon,  formed  the  image 
of  a  giant  cross.  In  the  rigging,  outlined  against  the 
blue  vault  of  the  sky,  millions  of  stars  seemed  tangled. 
Save  for  the  silent  specter  of  a  Russian  sailor  gliding 
here  and  there,  Sybil  had  the  night  to  herself  and  her 
beloved.  With  Peter's  arms  around  her,  her  head 
leaning  against  his  breast,  life  overflowed  for  her  with 
love  and  peace  and  hope. 


ON  deck  again  for  a  long,  bright  day  in  the 
Leaving  the  Dardanelles  (where,  at  the  Hellespont,  a 
health-officer  in  a  small  boat  had  stopped  the  ship  for 
a  brief  parley),  they  skirted  Lemnos,—  between  the 
twin  summits  of  which  was  cradled  Vulcan's  forge,— 
then  Tenedos,  and  after  that  ran  for  hours  between  the 
mainland  and  Mitylene,  ancient  Lesbos,  burning  Sap 
pho's  isle.  Lesbian  wine  might  have  been  circling  in 
their  veins,  Lesbian  sparrows  twittering  in  their  ears, 
so  gay  the  mood  of  our  voyagers.  Following  the  line 
of  serrated  coast  beneath  summits  of  riven  gray,  the 
flanks  of  its  lower  hills  clothed  with  olive-orchards  and 
vineyards,  they  came  at  noon  upon  the  chief  town  of 
the  island,  the  walls  of  the  ruined  fortress  of  which, 


132  GOOD  AMERICANS 

built  high  and  dry  by  Venetian  masters  of  medieval 
days,  were  now  washed  by  the  encroaching  waves. 

Thenceforward  the  scene  was  like  the  shifting  of  a 
kaleidoscope.  Rock-piles,  arising  from  the  turquoise 
sea,  assumed  forever  changing  forms  and  tints.  Bas 
tions  of  Russian  porphyry,  jagged  cliffs  of  amethyst, 
crenelated  walls  of  lapis  lazuli,  a  row  of  golden  organ- 
pipes,  a  cone  of  crystal,  a  tawny  lion  couchant,  far 
away  castles  of  pale,  cerulean  blue  !  Along  the  shores 
of  Asia  Minor,  the  hills,  with  vegetation  parched  by 
the  summer  suns,  were  russet  brown,  bronze,  and  pur 
ple;  the  villages,  with  their  occasional  olive-mills, 
were  built  in  eyries  to  which  roads  like  pencil-strokes 
went  up.  Over  all  this,  resplendent  sunshine,  a  lu 
minous  radiance  of  atmosphere  that  has  kept  in  it  the 
magic  of  ancient  days,  and  from  the  water  a  light 
breeze,  like  the  touch  of  a  cool  hand ! 

"It  is  better  than  any  book  ever  drilled  into  my 
boyish  brain  in  a  dead  language,"  said  Davenant.  "  I 
feel  steeped  in  Southern  color.  And  to  have  it  with 
you  beside  me—" 

Sybil  did  not  weary  of  such  a  chorus  to  every  one 
of  her  lover's  songs  of  praise  of  his  surroundings.  She 
saw  that  he  had  indeed  touched  the  meridian  of  satis 
faction  with  created  things.  It  checked  upon  her  lips 
many  a  woman's  question  and  speculation  about  their 
future  plans  and  mode  of  life.  It  was  agreed  between 
them  to  put  off  all  these  considerations  until  the  return 
voyage  to  America,  which  they  expected  to  make  from 
Naples  when  they  could  no  longer  stay  abroad. 

Sybil  had  never  looked  more  lovely.  Her  fair,  deli 
cate  face,  with  the  forget-me-not  blue  eyes  and  wild- 


GOOD  AMERICANS  133 

rose  bloom,  had  captivated  most  of  her  fellow-travel 
ers,  who  had  always  a  word,  a  smile,  or  a  courteous 
act  for  the  young  bride.  To-day,  when  the  vessel 
rounded  into  the  sparkling  Gulf  of  Smyrna,  people 
kept  emerging  from  their  cabins  in  resplendent  toilets 
that  put  Mrs.  Daveiiant's  plain  blue  serge  and  straw 
sailor-hat  in  the  shade.  The  fat  French  lady  with  the 
spaniel  rustled  by  her  in  a  fine  confection  of  dress 
maker's  art,  topped  by  a  hat  with  nodding  lilacs  and 
white  osprey  plumes.  A  little  dark  gentleman  from 
Egypt,  whom  the  night  before  Sybil  had  mistaken  for 
a  waiter,  appeared  in  high-heeled  lacquered  boots, 
pearl-colored  trousers  and  hat,  a  frock-coat,  blue  scarf, 
yellow  kid  gloves,  and  a  stick. 

"  They  look  askance  at  us,"  whispered  Sybil.  "  We 
are  not  dressed  for  the  occasion  of  landing  in  a  fash 
ionable  port.  And  I,  who  thought  Smyrna  was  all 
figs,  and  brigands,  and  the  finest  camels  in  Asia! 
Look,  Peter !  Here  comes  my  rival,  the  other  bride, 
in  rose  muslin,  with  such  a  gorgeous  hat!  I  must 
run  and  change  before  we  come  to  anchor.  Peter 
dear,  would  you  wear  your  white  duck  or  the  striped 
blue-and-white  cotton  I  had  on  that  day  at  Pocas 
set  f" 

"The  white  duck,"  said  Peter,  judicially.  "Keep 
the  blue-and-white  till  we  get  home  and  I  can  have  a 
glass  case  made  for  it." 

"  How  long  ago  it  seems,— that  day  at  Pocasset,— 
and  how  far  away  Pocasset  is  !  "  she  said  dreamily,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  a  line  of  white  glistening  salt-heaps  edg 
ing  an  island  coast.  "  I  am  afraid  we  were  in  a  dread 
ful  hurry." 


134  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"  We  shall  have  the  rest  of  our  lives  to  repent  our 
rash  action  in/7  said  he,  rallying  her. 

"  Repent !  When  I  have  you  !  Only  sometimes  I 
think  how  very  much  we  are  alone  in  the  world.  Oh, 
Peter,  you  must  be  so  good  to  me— and  I  to  you  !  " 

Her  April  moods  always  charmed  him,  but  to-day 
she  had  struck  a  deeper  note.  He  almost  felt  that  for 
the  first  time  she  realized  the  nature  of  their  bond. 
While  he  knew  she  could  not  exhaust  the  depth  and 
breadth  of  his  enveloping  love,  he  wondered  if  she 
were  equally  certain  of  herself.  So  far,  she  had  been 
his  queen  enthroned  in  a  fond  heart.  By  and  by, 
when  she  should  come  to  step  down  from  the  bridal 
pedestal  and  work  with  him  side  by  side— 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  interrupted  his  meditation,  "  I 
think  it  is  so  much  nicer  traveling  without  a  maid  and 
courier.  Some  girls  could  n't  get  on  at  all;  but  I— I 
have  always  done  my  own  hair  and  known  how  to 
keep  my  things  in  order.  I  could  not  endure  to  have 
my  clothes  disorderly  or  not  fresh  and  crisp.'7 

"  That  I  am  sure  of,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  with 
approving  eyes.  At  the  same  time  another  one  of 
those  shafts  of  apprehension  struck  him.  Did  Sybil 
understand  what  it  meant  not  to  have  all  her  sur 
roundings  meet  her  dainty  taste? 

"  I  am  afraid,'7  he  ventured,  "  it  will  be  long  before 
I  can  supply  you  with  a  maid  and  courier,  or  with 
journeys  that  would  require  them.  Our  travels  must 
be  around  the  hearth-rug  for  some  time.  But  you 
have  had  so  much,  your  mind  will  always  be  filled 
with  lovely  pictures.'7 

"  Don't  speak  of  anything  but  this !  "  she  exclaimed 


GOOD  AMERICANS  135 

lightly;  and  again  the  pagan  spirit  of  her  creed— to 
enjoy  the  hour,  and  let  the  future  go— took  hold  of 
him  regretfully. 

SYBIL  selected  from  among  the  gay  little  fleet  that 
came  out  to  wait  upon  the  ship  the  boat  having  the 
prettiest  rug  in  it. 

When  they  reached  the  projecting  quay,  where  a 
young  Turk  waited  to  vise  passports,  the  two  were 
distracted  by  the  din  of  solicitations  from  a  crowd  of 
guides.  Whether  to  go  to  Ephesus  or  the  moon,  Sybil 
could  not  decide,  and  ended  by  declaring  she  preferred 
to  stroll  about  the  town. 

"  But  if  I  Ve  got  to  take  one  of  these  bores,  1 7d 
rather  go  back  to  the  ship,"  she  said  petulantly. 

A  nice  young  man  in  a  blue-serge  suit— evidently 
a  suave  citizen  willing  to  be  of  service  to  tormented 
foreigners— here  interposed  politely. 

"Madam  has  only  to  pass  these  rude  fellows  by/' 
he  said  in  English,  "and  to  walk  on,  paying  no  at 
tention." 

Across  the  blinding  sunshine  of  the  quay  they  hur 
ried,  diving  into  a  cool  back  street  paved  with  large 
flagstones  newly  watered,  its  shade-trees  resting  their 
branches  on  the  house-roofs.  A  glimpse  into  a  court 
yard  revealed  pepper-trees  mingling  their  feathery 
foliage  with  the  rosy  blooms  of  oleander.  And  then 
from  a  narrow  lane  emerged  a  train  of  stately  camels, 
swaying  their  long  gray  necks  in  the  wake  of  a  small, 
belled  donkey. 

"  Let  us  follow  the  camels,"  exclaimed  Sybil,  glee 
fully,  "  no  matter  where  they  lead  us  !  " 


136  GOOD  AMERICANS 

But  she  had  reckoned  without  her  host.  There,  at 
her  elbow,  stood  the  nice  young  citizen,  lifting  his  hat. 

"  Mister  wishes  to  conduct  madam  to  view  the  bazaar 
firstly?"  he  said.  "I  am  serving  many  distinguished 
English  in  the  capacity  of  guide—'7 

"  We  have  no  need  of  you,"  said  Davenant,  briefly, 
turning  upon  his  heel. 

They  thought  to  shake  him  by  entering  the  Hotel 
Huck  for  a  lemonade  and  a  glance  at  the  "Levant 
Herald."  When  they  emerged,  he  was  awaiting  them, 
affable  and  merciless.  He  infested  the  honeycomb  pas 
sages  of  the  bazaar,  appeared  in  front  of  the  mosque, 
refused  to  be  lost  in  the  medley  of  Oriental  peo 
ples  overflowing,  with  cries  about  nothing,  the  noisy 
little  Turkish  town.  Upon  their  taking  refuge  in  a 
book-shop  to  purchase  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  in 
modern  Greek,  the  Pest  framed  himself  in  the  door 
way,  still  insufferably  smiling. 

"I  come  out  to  ship  to-morrow  morning — eh? — to 
conduct  mister  and  madam  to  view  a  fig-factory  ? "  he 
said  inquiringly. 

"  Fig-factory  be  hanged  !  "  shouted  Davenant,  at  the 
end  of  his  patience.  "  If  you  speak  to  me  again  I  '11 
knock  you  down  !  n 

AT  evening  the  hotels,  cafes  chantants,  and  theaters 
were  brilliantly  alight.  The  long  quay  was  a  parterre 
of  colored  lamps.  Fainter  gleams,  like  fireflies,  twin 
kled  in  the  old  houses  scattered  about  the  misty 
heights  beneath  the  ruined  acropolis  crowning  Mount 
Pagus.  Music  and  laughter  came  floating  from  shore 
to  ship.  The  Italian  gunboat  at  anchor  in  the  harbor 


GOOD  AMEEICANS  137 

threw  out  sheaves  of  colored  fire  that  broke  in  showers 
of  stars,  repeated  in  the  water.  The  pale  sickle  of  the 
moon,  hiding  her  diminished  head  behind  the  peaks 
of  Two  Brothers,  vanished  from  the  scene. 

The  lovers,  who  had  the  deck  almost  to  themselves, 
sat  there,  as  usual,  till  late  into  the  night. 

AWAY  again  on  the  morrow,  sailing  ever  over  a  sea 
now  green,  now  blue,  now  streaked  with  rose,  past 
islands  of  amethystine  hue— the  purple  of  Scotch 
heather  drenched  in  sunshine.  All  day  they  skirted 
the  mainland,  here  a  line  of  tawny  foot-hills,  in 
strange  shapes,  like  lions  and  tigers  couched  together, 
under  summits,  gray,  wrinkled,  ancient,  resembling 
mastodons  in  stone,  the  feet  of  these  high-piled  mon 
sters  lost  in  one  continuous  garland  of  olive  and 
orange,  grape  and  fig,  almond  and  laurel. 

At  six  in  the  evening  the  ship  came  again  to  anchor, 
facing  Chios,  the  scene  of  Homer's  school  of  poetry. 
The  town  of  the  blind  bard  has  been  swept  out  of 
sight  by  time  and  earthquake.  At  the  foot  of  volcanic 
peaks,  like  cones  of  gunpowder,  clusters  confidingly 
the  new  town,  built  in  tinted  plaster,  gay,  cheerful, 
and  overflowing  with  the  riotous  animation  of  the 
Levant.  Only  an  old-time  fortress  near  the  sea  tells 
the  tale  of  bygones  the  classic  traveler  demands. 

There  was  to  be  no  landing  at  pretty,  lively  Chios. 

When  the  great  Russian  came  to  a  halt  in  their  bay, 
a  line  of  small  boats  shot  out  to  meet  her  with  the 
intrepid  dash  of  a  boarding-party  of  Indian  canoes. 

"We  shall  soon  be  in  Bedlam/7  said  Davenant. 
"  These  Chians  are  the  worst  of  the  turbulent  Levan- 


138  GOOD  AMERICANS 

tines  for  racket.  It  must  always  have  been  a  noisy 
place.  If  I  don't  forget,  Homer  was  nearly  frightened 
away  from  here  by  the  barking  of  Glaucus's  dog." 

In  a  few  moments  the  water  about  the  vessel  was 
swarming  with  small  craft.  The  passenger-boats, 
spread  with  brilliant  rugs,  were  crowded  with  people 
and  luggage  of  many  colors;  the  freight-boats  piled 
with  hampers  of  grapes,  figs,  and  nuts,  sacks  of  raw 
mastic,  and  long-necked  wicker  bottles  of  mastic  wine. 
The  boatmen,  maneuvering  them  over  rough  waves, 
eager  each  to  get  in  ahead  of  the  other  at  the  end  of 
the  gangway,  stood  brandishing  oars  and  boat-hooks, 
shouting,  yelling,  plunging,  fiercely  quarreling  up  and 
down  the  ranks.  They  were  handsome  fellows,  as 
active  as  cats,  dark-skinned,  bare-legged,  bare-armed, 
with  gleaming  teeth  and  eyes,  merry  in  spite  of  furi 
ous  raging  at  their  mates.  The  trim  Russian  sailor 
stationed  at  the  foot  of  the  ship's  ladder  had  to  strug 
gle  for  his  life  to  keep  them  from  hurling  their  pas 
sengers  past  him  upon  the  steps.  One  persistent  devil 
was  brought  to  terms  only  by  a  blow  that  landed  him 
on  his  back  in  the  middle  of  his  boat.  All  through 
the  evening  the  hurly-burly  raged,  till  at  a  late  hour 
the  ship  got  under  way. 

"  Too  bad  we  must  leave  this  steamer,"  said  Sybil, 
sighing.  "  It  has  all  been  perfect,  wonderful !  Such 
weather !  Such  a  sea !  When  we  are  rich,  Peter,  we 
shall  come  here  and  dawdle  for  weeks  in  a  yacht.  But 
never  do  I  expect  to  find  again  a  ship  so  comfortable 
as  this.  What  would  Lord  Byron  have  said  to  marble 
bath-tubs,  with  the  water  of  the  ./Egean  turned  in 
through  silver-plated  faucets  ?  We  shall  find  out  the 


GOOD  AMERICANS  139 

difference  when  we  get  into  one  of  the  Italian  boats 
to  go  through  the  Gulf  of  Corinth." 

"  People  who  have  put  off  travel  as  I  Ve  done  get 
the  benefit  of  fin-de-siecle  comforts/7  said  her  husband. 
"I  can't  believe  that  to-morrow  morning  I  7m  to  see 
Hymettus  and  Pentelikoii  and  the  Parthenon  from 
this  deck.  Sybil,  shall  I  tell  you  that  my  only  fear  in 
reaching  Athens  is  that  we  '11  meet  somebody  we  7ve 
seen  before  ?  " 

"  And  letters !  Nobody  knows  how  I  dread  that 
visit  to  the  banker's  and  the  post.  Oh,  these  happy 
people  on  board  who  have  no  Newport  gossiping  about 
them,  no  New  York  newspapers  paragraphing  them—" 

"  My  wife  shall  drop  out  of  the  newspapers,"  said  he, 
fondly ;  "  and  in  the  world  of  our  love  Newport  will 
make  no  difference." 

"  Peter  dear,  I  7ve  been  wondering.  Are  we  to  get 
a  house  at  once  ?  Because  I  know  of  one  on  Park 
Avenue— the  Monty  Wutherings  had  it  last  year  for 
six  months.  I  'm  sure  the  owner  will  let  it  from 
Christmas  till  May,  and  we  should  n't  want  to  be  much 
in  town  till  Christmas." 

"My  dear  little  girl,"  he  said  patiently,  "we  must 
1  be  in  town '  as  soon  as  we  get  back  •  and,  what 7s 
more,  we  must  stay  there.  And  1 7m  dreadfully  afraid 
a  house  the  Monty  Wutherings  would  take  is  far  above 
our  purse.77 

Sybil's  blue  eyes  opened  a  little  wonderingly. 

"Oh,  but  I  assure  you,  darling,  it  7s  such  a  tiny 
house  it  could  n7t  be  dear  if  it  tried.77 

"Do  you  chance  to  know  the  rent?" 

"  No  one  ever  spoke  of  that  to  me.     Oh,  Peter,  is  n7t 


140  GOOD  AMERICANS 

it  ridiculous  to  be  bothering  about  rent  here,  and  on 
such  an  evening  as  this  ?  Look  at  the  moon  over  the 
mountains  in  that  clear  saffron  sky,  and  the  far  lights 
of  Chios !  Our  last  night  on  the  ^Egean  !  Say  some 
verses  for  me,  please." 

"Let  us  live,  my  Lesbia,— 

Let  us  our  love  enjoy. 
Out  upon  old  men's  frowns, 

Count  them  not  worth  a  toy. 
The  sun  may  rise  again 

When  once  the  night  is  past, 
When  our  brief  light  is  gone— " 

"  I  will  hear  no  more,"  she  protested.  "  It  begins  to 
sound  melancholy — 

"  Catullus  ends  it  cheerfully  enough,"  said  he,  laugh 
ing. 

"  I  am  tired  of  poetry ;  let  us  walk,"  she  insisted, 
slipping  her  hand  within  his  arm. 


IX 


crown  of  their  voyage  was  to  be  the 
ring  of  mountains  lying  in  purple 
shadow  about  Athens  and  the  Acrop 
olis.  Davenant,  glass  in  hand,  had 
been  on  deck  since  sunrise,  gazing 
eagerly  at  the  various  points  of  the 
Grecian  islands,  identifying  Minerva's  temple  as  they 
passed  it,  and  at  last  recognizing  with  a  thrill  those 
mighty  piles  of  marble,  Hymettus  and  Pentelikon,  be 
tween  which  arises,  upon  its  umber  hill,  that  gem  of 
the  dead  as  of  the  living  world,  the  Parthenon. 

Sybil  had  stopped  in  the  saloon  for  a  cup  of  tea  be 
fore  she  joined  him.  When  they  steamed  into  the 
Piraeus  the  rapt  gazer  felt  her  light  touch  on  his  arm. 
"  I  wonder  how  I  ever  pretended  to  enjoy  anything 
before  you  were  there  to  share  it,"  he  remarked. 
"  The  morning  has  felt  incomplete  without  you  ;  and 
in  other  days  I  wanted  to  be  alone  when  I  was  sight 
seeing." 

"  I  also  will  own  that  this  is  just  a  little  better  than 
traveling  with  my  aunt,"  said  she,  mischievously. 

While  they  stood  surveying  the  approach  to  the 
Athenian  seaport,  amid  the  crowd  of  vessels  of  many 
nationalities  lying  along  the  quays,  a  conspicuous 

141 


142  GOOD  AMERICANS 

object  was  a  beautiful  yacht  painted  white,  with  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  flying  at  her  masthead. 

Instantly  Davenant's  cap  was  lifted  from  his  head, 
and  a  look  of  proud  and  reverent  affection  came  into 
his  eyes. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  she,  curiously.  "Oh,  only  an 
American  yacht !  I  can't  imagine  being  glad  to  see 
that ;  for  most  likely  there  '11  be  some  compatriots  at 
the  hotel  who  '11  find  us  out,  and  there  's  the  end  of 
our  lovely  isolation  from  the  world." 

"  A  man  would  be  a  poor  creature,  in  my  opinion, 
who  would  n't  feel  a  thrill  at  the  sight  of  his  country's 
flag  in  a  foreign  harbor,"  he  answered. 

"  I  never  thought  of  that  side  of  it.  Perhaps  I  have 
seen  too  many  of  them,"  she  said,  a  little  chilled  by 
the  suggestion  of  reproof.  "  At  any  rate,  I  shall  ask 
this  Cook's  boatman,  just  coming  up  the  side,  who  the 
owner  is.  They  know  everything  about  the  docks." 

"  '  The  Almee,  belonging  to  Monsieur  Willoughby  of 
New  York,'"  was  the  reply  Sybil  conveyed  to  her 
husband,  who  had  not  left  his  stand.  "Just  as  I 
supposed.  Those  Willoughbys  !  who  own  a  boat  be 
cause  it 's  the  fashion,  and  are  both  so  dreadfully  sea 
sick  I  wonder  they  've  the  courage  to  go  outside  of 
harbor." 

"The  yacht  is  a  beauty,  though,"  said  he,  admiringly. 
"Ah,  there  begins  again  that  Southern  clack  and 
tumult  of  boatmen.  But  nothing  will  ever  equal 
Chios ! " 

In  their  hotel,  in  rooms  with  long  windows  opening 
into  a  portico  of  snow-white  marble,  its  pillars  fram 
ing  in  full  view  the  hill  of  his  lifelong  dreams,  Dave- 


GOOD  AMERICANS  143 

nant  left  his  wife  to  rest,  while  he  set  out  on  foot  to 
scale  the  classic  heights.  What  he  felt  and  thought 
on  the  staircase  of  the  Propylaea  and  on  the  step  of  the 
great  temple,  where  he  stood  for  a  long  time  drinking 
in  the  scene  and  air  and  influence,  must  be  imagined 
by  those  who  share  his  sentiment. 

At  the  portal  of  the  exquisite  little  temple  of  Nike 
Apteros  his  visions  were  rudely  disturbed  by  the  ap 
proach  of  a  large,  bland  personage  in  a  too  correct 
yachting-suit,  who  fell  upon  him  with  fervor,  extend 
ing  his  hand. 

"My  dear  sir,  I'm  charmed  to  see  you  here- 
charmed.  Met  you  at  dinner  at  the  Granthams',  and 
am  well  acquainted  with  your  high  reputation  at  our 
bar.  My  name  is— 

"Of  course— Mr.  Willoughby,"  said  Davenant, 
gathering  his  scattered  wits  together.  "  We  were  told 
that  is  your  pretty  yacht  in  harbor." 

"Yes;  I  bought  the  Almee  last  year  from  Monty 
Wuthering,  who  had  got  tired  of  her.  Fine  boat, 
is  n't  she  ?  Sent  her  over  to  the  Mediterranean,  and 
joined  her  at  Gibraltar  last  month.  M'  wife  had  so 
much  care  and  anxiety  last  winter,  getting  into  our 
new  house—" 

"  I— ah— remember,"  hastily  interposed  Davenant. 

"  —that  the  doctors  said  she  could  n't  undertake  the 
care  of  it  this  winter.  On  the  verge  of  nervous  pros 
tration  was  Mrs.  Willoughby.  So  we  made  up  a  little 
party  for  this  cruise  in  the  Mediterranean  and  Ionian. 
Came  through  the  Canal  of  Corinth,  or,  I  might  say, 
scraped  through, — m'  wife  quite  hysterical  over  the 
narrow  passage,— and  expect  to  winter  in  Egypt." 


144  GOOD  AMEEICANS 

"  Do  you  stay  long  in  Athens  ? "  asked  his  hearer, 
wearily. 

"  Just  as  long  as  m'  wife  can  be  contented  here.  By 
George !  Davenant,  we  're  at  the  best  hotel  I  ever 
struck  in  a  foreign  country.  I  'd  be  willing  to  put  in 
a  good  stop  here  myself.  But  tell  me  of  Mrs.  Dave- 
nant.  Of  course  you  are  on  your  wedding-tour.  The 
world  knows  very  well  about  your  movements.  Can't 
carry  off  a  belle  of  society  without  suffering  the  pen 
alty  of  having  it  discussed.  Like  to  have  a  copy  of 
the  l  New  York  Interviewer/  giving  a  full  account  of 
your  wedding  ?  Think  m'  wife  has  one  at  the  hotel." 

"  You  will  excuse  me/7  said  Davenant,  stiffly. 

"  No  offense  meant.  Everybody  has  his  turn  in  the 
newspapers,  and  everybody  knows  what  old  lady  Lew- 
iston  is  when  her  back  's  up.  You  '11  be  interested  to 
hear  that  m'  wife  7s  secured  for  our  expedition  the  one 
all  the  society  columns  are  saying  will  succeed  your 
fair  lady  as  the  beauty  of  the  smart  set— Miss  Claribel 
Hilton.  Heard  of  her,  no  doubt  ?  Pretty  as  a  peach. 
Mrs.  Stanley  tried  to  get  her  for  Lenox  before  we  left ; 
but  m'  wife  was  too  clever— whipped  in  with  an  invi 
tation  for  this  cruise.  Some  good  fellows  are  of  our 
party— several  friends  of  your  wife's— Allen,  Willy 
Lang,  and  Beau  Frisbie.  Tried  for  Cleve,  but  he  was 
in  England  visiting,  and  I  could  n't  catch  him." 

Davenant,  writhing  with  impatience,  was  yet  struck 
by  the  names  mentioned.  He  knew  them  to  belong  to 
people  of  Sybil's  acquaintance,  hitherto  unapproach 
able  by  the  lavish  Willoughbys.  The  idea  of  this 
downpouring  of  idle  pleasure-seekers  upon  the  pre 
cious  hours  of  his  waning  honeymoon  sent  disgust  into 


GOOD  AMERICANS  145 

his  heart.  But  stronger  than  all  other  feelings  was 
for  the  moment  his  desire  to  be  rid  of  a  Willoughby 
in  the  shadow  of  the  Parthenon. 

It  was  inevitable  that  the  Davenants  should  run  into 
the  other  camp.  After  luncheon  in  their  sitting-room, 
Davenant  carried  his  wife  off  for  a  round  of  mild 
sight-seeing.  He  had  found  time  during  the  morning 
to  drop  into  the  museum  of  the  Acropolis  and  admire 
the  recently  discovered  "  Winged  Three,"  with  its  ser 
pent's  tail,  and  now  went  back  to  give  her  a  glimpse 
at  it. 

"Think  of  this  splendid  monster  swooping  down 
through  ether  every  evening  to  gather  tidings  of  what 
threatened  Athens  from  the  outer  world,  and  return 
ing  to  the  Parthenon  with  the  rising  of  the  sun !  " 

"What  strikes  me  in  their  sculpture,"  said  Sybil, 
"  is  the  grand,  free  forms  of  the  women.  If  we  could 
all  be  molded  and  hold  ourselves  erect  like  these  stat 
ues  and  fragments,  we  7d  be  fit  to  'take  the  lead.' 
Did  you  see  the  small  size  of  that  pretty  Greek  girl's 
waist  who  got  into  her  carriage  before  ours  at  the 
hotel?  I  am  sure  she  cannot  draw  a  long  breath 
comfortably." 

"  Ah,  Mrs.  Davenant !  "  said  a  voice.  A  good-look 
ing  man  in  light  tweeds,  who  was  surveying  a  frieze 
in  rather  bored  fashion,  had  turned  and  was  saluting 
them.  It  was  Sybil's  old  acquaintance,  familiar  to  the 
wealthy  leisure  circles  of  New  York  as  Willy  Lang, 
who  took  the  circumstance  of  meeting  them  in  Athens 
as  he  would  have  taken  a  similar  encounter  in  Hyde 
Park  or  Fifth  Avenue— or,  for  the  matter  of  that, 
Djibouti. 
10 


146  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"  Rather  a  poor  season  to  be  here,  but  we  're  well 
enough  at  the  hotel/7  he  said  indifferently. 

Lang,  an  old  admirer  of  Sybil's,  was  well  informed 
as  to  the  romantic  marriage  excluding  her  from  her 
aunt's  good  graces  and  bank-account.  He  admired  her 
still,  but  wondered  why  Davenant  had  been  such  an 
ass  as  to  take  a  bride  under  such  circumstances,  es 
pecially  when  everybody  said  that  the  fellow  was 
getting  ahead  in  the  world  like  wild-fire.  Nothing 
could  have  induced  Lang  to  share  Ms  modest  income 
with  a  wife.  It  was  all  he  could  do  to  knock  about, 
buy  drinks  and  cigars,  clothe  himself  like  a  lily  of  the 
field,  and  pay  club  dues.  The  rest  of  his  enjoyments 
came  out  of  the  purses  of  other  people,  to  whom  he 
gave  the  equivalent  of  his  good  looks,  fine  figure,  and 
knowledge  of  the  world,  intending  to  do  so  until  such 
time  as  it  should  please  his  fancy  to  secure  a  wealthy 
wife. 

When  Sybil  introduced  him  with  graceful  pride  to 
her  husband,  Lang  treated  Davenant  with  some  show 
of  civility.  His  shrewd,  lazy  remarks  reminded  Dave 
nant  of  Ainslie,  whom  he  had  always  liked,  though  in 
Ainslie  there  was  the  spark  of  individuality  lacking  in 
the  present  specimen.  Keeping  pace  with  them  in  the 
round  of  the  museum,  he  stood  lifting  his  hat  at  the 
carriage-step,  outside,  after  Sybil  had  taken  her  seat 
in  it  to  depart. 

Davenant  could  see  that  Sybil  was  rather  gratified 
than  otherwise  by  this  meeting.  With  Lang  she  had 
plunged  at  once  into  a  talk  concerning  people  and 
things  Davenant  had  already  tried,  for  his  wife's  sake, 
to  care  about,  but  tried  in  vain.  He  was  generously 


GOOD  AMERICANS  147 

glad  for  her  to  have  this  pleasure,  and  at  the  same 
time  a  very  little  piqued  at  her  animation  in  partak 
ing  of  it. 

"  You  like  Lang,  then  ? "  he  said  as  they  drove  off. 

"I  like  some  of  the  things  he  likes,  rather,"  an 
swered  she,  with  a  mutinous  smile.  "My  dearest 
Peter,  you  can't  expect  me  all  at  once  to  live  on  your 
mountain-tops  and  never  go  down  into  the  valleys. 
Now,  tell  me  candidly,  what  do  you  think  of  Willy 
Lang I" 

"  Pm  afraid  I  sha'n't  think  of  him  after  we  ;ve  been 
parted  for  five  minutes,  though  he 's  pleasant-enough 
company.  The  worst  I  have  against  him  is  that  he  is 
willing  to  be  the  guest  of  the  Willoughbys." 

"  Who  caused  you  to  thrill  with  their  American  flag, 
remember ! " 

"I  wish  they  had  remained  invisible  beneath  it. 
Sybil,  I  foresee  endless  vexations  through  these  peo 
ple  being  here.  It  is  almost  cause  for  moving." 

"The  hotel  is  so  large.  We  can  have  our  meals 
always  to  ourselves.  In  the  evenings  sometimes  it 
might  be  fun  to— oh,  no,  no!  what  am  I  saying?  I 
am  not  Sybil  Gwynne,  and  do  not  belong  to  that  set 
now.  I  am  Mrs.  Davenant,  an  entirely  reconstructed 
young  person,  who  glories  in  her  handsome,  clever 
husband,  and  would  n't  change  him  for  all  that  these 
people  stand  for.  Indeed,  Peter,  1 'm  in  earnest.  And 
if  I  ever  seem  to  you  weak  in  these  matters,  think  of 
what  my  whole  life  has  been,  put  in  the  balance  with 
the  few  months  since  you  appeared  to  influence  me  for 
better  things.  I  don't  envy  Claribel  Hilton  in  the 
least,  stepping  into  my  old  shoes.  She 's  quite  welcome 


148  GOOD  AMERICANS 

to  them.  I  thought  Etta  would  take  her  up  when  I 
deserted.  Etta  must  have  a  girl  friend.  But  she  '11 
need  a  long  time  to  get  over  Claribel's  traveling  under 
Mrs.  Willoughby's  wing.  There  's  been  a  rumor  that 
Claribel  is  in  love  with  Willy  Lang,  and  perhaps  that 
accounts  for  her  being  here.  But  he  does  n't  even 
look  at  her.  She  's  not  rich  enough.  Any  one  who 
gets  him  must  contribute  millions  and  a  house.  Those 
other  men  we  're  going  to  meet  are  of  Lang's  sort, 
only  not  as  nice.  You  '11  see  them  all  over  Europe, 
amusing  themselves.  They  're  rather  ashamed  than 
otherwise  of  being  called  Americans.  They  don't  like 
being  mixed  up  with  our  vulgar  herd  that  travels; 
though,  to  tell  the  truth,  Peter,  I  don't  either." 

"Yet  we  shall  soon  be  hand  in  glove  with  Mrs. 
Willoughby." 

"Oh,  the  Willoughbys  have  crept  'in.'  They  are 
bad,  certainly,  but  no  worse  than  the  parvenus  of  every 
nation  that  rise  to  the  top  by  spending  money  for  other 
people's  entertainment.  It  is  a  sure  sign  the  Wil 
loughbys  are  '  in '  that  Willy  Lang  consents  to  come 
on  a  cruise  with  them." 

"I  am  sick  of  their  4ns 'and  'outs'!"  exclaimed 
Peter.  "  See  what  they  've  brought  upon  us  already 
—to  waste  Athens  in  talking  about  them  !  " 

But  the  glory  of  past  and  present  soon  blended  to 
drive  from  the  grumbler  every  thought  that  was  not 
of  pure  rejoicing,  when  they  watched  the  sun  go  down 
behind  "his  Delphian  cliff." 

Peter  had  lifted  Sybil  to  rest  on  a  shattered  pedes 
tal  in  the  grass  under  the  eastern  range  of  pillars  of 
the  Parthenon,  now  deserted,  save  for  a  few  other 


GOOD  AMERICANS  149 

visitors,  and  the  guardians  of  the  place,  who  were 
jingling  their  keys  in  impatience  for  the  orb  of  day  to 
go  down  and  let  them  be  done  with  gaping  travelers. 
And  thence  our  couple  had  strayed  down  to  the  plat 
form  on  the  western  end  of  Nike's  lovely  temple,  and 
stood  looking  at  the  scene  in  the  silence  of  perfect 
sympathy. 

Sybil  could  not  know  what  this  meant  to  his  thirsty 
soul,  for  the  first  time  slaking  itself  at  immortal  foun 
tains  ;  but  she  saw  his  deep  pleasure,  and  was  glad  in 
it.  They  were  standing  where  old  ^Egeus  stood  to 
look  for  the  ship  that  was  to  bring  him  news  of  his 
son  Theseus'  victory  or  defeat  in  the  encounter  with 
the  Minotaur;  as  he  watched,  the  royal  vessel  had 
come  into  view,  but  with  black  sails,  and  the  king, 
taking  this  for  an  announcement  of  his  son's  death, 
had  leaped  headlong  to  destruction  from  the  cliff. 

Just  now  the  far  reach  of  mountains,  valley,  sea, 
and  islands  was  bathed  in  "  the  tender  grace  of  a  day 
that  is  dead."  Nothing  like  it  had  ever  greeted  Dave- 
nant's  eyes  before.  The  memory  of  it  would  go  with 
him  to  his  grave. 

The  last  rays  of  the  sun  saw  them  hurried  by  the 
guides  from  their  classic  pinnacle  where  all  was  bliss. 
Driving  back  through  the  bassr  mile,  of  Athens,  the 
cheerful  scenes  of  the  street  after  working-hours  were 
in  strong  contrast  with  the  forsaken  ruins  overhead 
At  the  wine-shops,  and  outside  the  house  doors,  women, 
children,  soldiers,  and  peasants  were  meeting,  greeting, 
circling,  and  chatting,  like  a  chorus  scene  of  the  opera. 
Men  and  women  in  Albanian  dress,  manly  and  hand 
some  Cretans  in  their  baggy  knee-breeches  with  boots 


150  GOOD  AMERICANS 

reaching  half-way  up  the  bare  calf,  some  Turkish 
women  in  yashmaks,  made  points  of  color  in  the  scene. 
Greek  women  and  girls  were  at  the  fountains,  filling 
stone  amphorge.  Between  the  white-,  pink-,  and  yel 
low-plastered  house  walls— between  the  hedges  of  cac 
tus,  aloe,  palm,  and  carob— arose  with  every  passing 
by  of  wheels  or  foot-passengers  a  gray  dust,  thick  and 
heavy,  that,  settling  upon  the  inhabitants,  did  not 
appear  to  incommode  them  in  the  least. 

THERE  was  no  help  for  Sybil  Davenant.  Although 
she  had  said  to  herself  that  she  would  never  go  near 
her,  she  knew  quite  well  that  pay  or  receive  a  visit 
from  the  unconquerable  Mrs.  Willoughby  she  must. 
She  found  in  her  rooms,  on  the  return  from  driving, 
the  cards  of  all  the  party,  with  an  urgent  invitation 
from  Mrs.  Willoughby  to  join  them  at  dinner,  which 
was  at  once  declined. 

"  You  had  better  go  alone  first,  after  dinner,  and  I 
will  stray  in  afterward,"  said  Peter,  with  a  groan.  "  A 
man  always  makes  a  poor  show  when  on  bridal  exhibi 
tion.  I  shall  go  for  a  stroll  through  the  streets,  and 
you  can  say  you  don't  know  where  I  am." 

Sybil's  appearance  in  Mrs.  Willoughby's  drawing- 
room— the  one  appertaining,  of  course,  to  the  most 
expensive  suite  of  the  hotel— was  the  occasion  of  a 
lively  welcome  from  two  women  who  had  exhausted 
each  other's  conversation. 

"  Our  men  are  all  scattered  somewhere,"  said  Mrs. 
Willoughby,  a  little  more  confident  in  manner  than 
when  Sybil  had  last  seen  her.  "  Claribel  and  I  were 
just  wondering  if  you  would  not  come.  And  we  are 


GOOD  AMERICANS  151 

dying  to  see  your  husband.  I  've  told  Claribel  what 
a  beauty  he  is— an  excuse  for  any  girl's  rash— 

"  Go  on  j  don't  be  afraid,"  said  Sybil,  blushing  a  little, 
but  mistress  of  herself.  "  You  cannot  say  more  of 
him  than  he  deserves.  He  will  come  in  presently  to 
thank  you  for  the  emotion  the  flag  on  your  yacht  in 
spired  in  his  patriotic  breast." 

"  Oh,  my  dear !  I  sometimes  say  to  Mr.  Willoughby 
I  wish  we  could  run  up  another  set  of  colors.  Our 
flag  is  just  the  signal  for  us  to  be  fleeced  in  every  port 
we  go  to.  The  yacht  's  a  very  nice  one,  certainly. 
My  cabins  were  fitted  up  for  Mrs.  Wuthering,  who 
has  such  sweet  taste.  But  one  can't  stand  the  noise 
and  smells  of  these  Southern  harbors.  Besides,  it 's 
a  change  to  get  into  a  hotel  and  see  somebody ;  though 
unless  you  happen  to  know  people,  I  think  these  for 
eign  hotels  are  very  keep-to-one's-self  places.  It  's 
ever  so  much  livelier  at  home." 

"  I  know  nothing  whatever  of  hotels  at  home,"  said 
Sybil,  "  except  to  leave  cards  at  them." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Claribel,  not  to  be  outdone. 

"  I  don't  mean  that  I  ever  stay  at  hotels  at  home," 
Mrs.  Willoughby  hastened  to  say.  "Of  course  not" 
with  two  houses  of  my  own.  You  have  no  conception 
of  our  troubles  with  our  new  house  in  Fifth  Avenue 
last  year.  After  I  'd  furnished  it  I  was  a  wreck— a 
perfect  wreck— and  that 's  the  reason  for  this  trip." 

For  a  wreck  Mrs.  Willoughby  certainty  preserved 
a  comfortable  weight  and  aspect.  But  Sybil  had  heard 
so  many  of  her  class  making  excuses  to  come  abroad 
and  wander,  through  excess  of  money  and  vacuity  of 
mind !  Mrs.  Willoughby  was  just  a  shade  better  than 


152  GOOD  AMERICANS 

the  Americans  who,  in  so  many  foreign  cities,  form 
colonies,  and  are  content  to  dwell  together  in  insular 
ity  of  spirit  among  those  who  will  know  them  not. 

Mrs.  Willoughby  was  actually  bored  beyond  mea 
sure  by  her  Grecian  sojourn.  The  true  aroma  of  the 
place  could  never  be  perceived  by  her.  In  Paris, 
London,  at  the  German  baths,  or  in  the  Italian  capi 
tal,  she  might  have  found  some  kindred  spirits  and 
much  diversion ;  but  here  ! 

And  it  was  not  what  it  seemed,  to  be  the  head  of 
such  a  party  as  were  her  guests.  The  men  treated  her 
with  but  scant  politeness.  Her  husband,  having  asked 
them  at  her  bidding,  often  wished  he  could  dismiss 
them,  giving  each  a  return  ticket  and  hastening  him 
home.  Miss  Claribel  Hilton,  a  dark  beauty  with  a 
keen  eye  to  the  main  chance,  had  set  out  intending  to 
utilize  the  cruise  not  only  in  killing  time,  but  by  ac 
complishing  a  long-eluded  capture  of  Mr.  Willy  Lang. 

The  most  agreeable  incident,  so  far,  of  ClaribePs 
travels  had  been  running,  in  this  way,  upon  the 
bride  and  groom  who  had  effected  such  a  meteoric 
disappearance  from  Newport.  She  wanted  something 
to  put  in  her  "  letters  home,"  she  said ;  but  Claribel 
was  suspected  of  eking  out  a  slender  stock  of  pin- 
money  by  contributing  items  of  so-called  "  social  in 
terest"  to  fashionable  journals.  She  had  also  a  keen 
desire  for  Sybil  to  hear  the  general  expression  of  be 
lief  that  Miss  Hilton  would  succeed  her  in  the  place 
Sybil  had  vacated. 

"  If  you  want  gossip,  I  can  give  you  a  good  deal 
from  Newport  in  some  cuttings  that  have  been  sent 
me,"  she  said,  fully  aware  that  these  columns  con- 


GOOD  AMERICANS  163 

tained  many  statements  of  the  nature  she  desired  to 
impart. 

"  Oh,  no,  thanks/'  said  Sybil.  "  We  have  n't  yet 
reached  the  stage  of  the  honeymoon  when  one  wel 
comes  an  enemy.  We  are  shutting  our  eyes,  indeed, 
to  everything  at  home  till  we  see  Sandy  Hook  again." 

Miss  Hilton  bridled.  She  felt  she  had  not  made 
exactly  a  success. 

"  It  will  be  nice  for  me  to  let  our  friends  know  you 
have  survived  all  that  has  been  said  of  you,"  she  went 
on  pleasantly. 

" Shall  you  print  it?"  asked  Sybil,  now  thoroughly 
aroused. 

Vexed  with  herself  for  minding  such  pin-sticks,  she 
turned  to  talk  with  poor,  worried  Mrs.  Willoughby, 
who  found  herself  in  the  position  of  a  theatrical 
manager  between  leading  ladies  at  war. 

"Then  you  do  mean  to  go  back  home?"  pursued 
Miss  Hilton,  after  a  moment's  rest.  "  Won't  you 
find  it  rather  a  change?  I  believe  your  husband 
does  n't  go  out  much— Mrs.  Stanley  said  he  did  n't— 

"  He  has  gone  out  now,"  answered  Sybil,  with  de 
cision. 

What  might  have  ensued  was  prevented  by  the  en 
trance  of  the  men.  Mr.  Willoughby,  who  brought  up 
the  rear,  having  managed  to  pass  an  hour  at  billiards, 
was  now  looking  forward  to  the  time  when  he  might 
be  allowed  to  go  to  bed. 

The  others,  discovering  in  Mrs.  Davenant  much 
more  of  an  attraction  than  in  the  too  evident  Miss 
Claribel  Hilton,  advanced  with  animation  to  surround 
her.  When  Davenant  came  in,  he  found  his  wife  the 


154  GOOD  AMERICANS 

brilliant  center  of  a  little  group  of  masculines,  rein 
forced  by  poor  Mr.  Willoughby,  who  had  hailed  with 
satisfaction  something  that  would  oblige  him  to  keep 
awake.  Mrs.  Willoughby,  with  her  strip  of  tapestry- 
work,  and  Claribel,  knitting  a  golf-stocking  destined 
for  the  manly  calf  of  Mr.  Lang,  sat,  dull  outsiders  in 
the  tribute  to  Sybil's  charms. 

Davenant's  arrival  changed  the  situation.  Sup 
pressing  a  desire  to  hit  to  the  right  and  left,  and 
carry  Sybil  away  from  these  fellows  to— one  of  the 
peaks  of  Hymettus,  let  us  say,— he  displayed  an  ease 
and  good-humored  courtesy  that  won  for  him  appro 
bation  undiluted.  But  Sybil  knew  that,  spite  of  ap 
pearances,  the  sooner  she  cut  short  the  evening  the 
better  for  Peter's  reputation ;  and,  resisting  all  efforts 
to  draw  her  into  a  water-party  the  n<?xt  day,  she 
hastened  to  make  her  adieus. 

"  You  poor  dear,  what  a  hero  you  were  !  "  she  said 
in  the  corridor.  "  But  you  could  not  have  held  out 
much  longer." 

"  And  what  a  heroine  my  wife  was  !  Sybil,  what 
have  you  done  to  antagonize  that  Hilton  girl  ?  " 

"Nothing  more  than  to  be"  she  said,  shrugging. 

"  She  is  in  love  with  Lang.  Lang  cares  not  a  rap 
for  her.  He  was  probably  at  one  time  in  your  train—" 

"  What  an  unraveler  of  plots  my  lawyer  is  !  Lang 
has  really  cared  for  but  one  person— himself." 

"  But  he  was  reputed  to  be  your  follower.  That 
accounts  for  it." 

"Let  us  go  out  on  the  portico  and  look  at  the 
moon,"  she  said,  drawing  him  out  into  the  peerless 
night. 


GOOD  AMERICANS  155 

THE  next  day  they  went  by  carriage  to  Eleusis.  A 
smart  shower  of  rain  refreshed  the  atmosphere,  falling 
when  they  had  but  just  passed  into  the  suburbs  with 
the  cactus  hedges  and  the  plaster  walls  prickly  with 
thistles  growing  atop,  the  gnarled,  warty  old  olive- 
trees  and  the  oleanders  leaning  out  of  the  courtyards, 
all  gray  with  dust  of  summer. 

Up  the  hilly  road  they  rode  between  pine-trees  in 
shape  "ike  lilac  plumes,  and  of  a  bright  spring  green. 
The  rain,  that  had  brought  out  from  the  earth  a  deli 
cious  scent  of  wild  herbs,  ran  away  in  yellow  rivulets 
to  the  valleys.  Beyond  them  were  bold,  darkling, 
wood-crowned  summits  with  velvet  clefts,  not  so  long 
since  haunted  by  brigands,  but  now  in  possession  of 
archaic  shepherds  wearing  mantles  of  rough  cloth, 
leggings,  and  steeple-crowned  hats,  and  carrying  guns 
to  keep  away  the  wolves  from  their  "  black  sheep  and 
white."  Groups  of  local  militia  patrolled  the  hills  to 
see  that  the  wandering  flocks  kept  sacred  the  inclo- 
sures  of  the  farmers.  These  mounted  infantry  wore 
frilled  petticoats,  white  leggings  cross-gartered  with 
black,  and  Albanian  slippers  with  tufts  of  red  silk  on 
the  toes.  In  peasant  carts,  gaily  painted,  drawn  by 
mules  in  bright  harness,  the  owners,  trusting  to  their 
faithful  beasts  to  find  the  way  home,  lay  asleep  amid 
sacks,  barrels,  piles  of  wicker  bottles,  and  empty  bas 
kets.  Ancient  crones  in  sleeveless  overcoats  of  white 
wool  with  stripes  of  black  embroidery  sat  upon  don 
keys,  carrying  on  their  laps  rosy  babies  slumbering 
amid  vegetables,  fowls,  and  fruit.  Children,  brown 
and  merry,  ran  beside  stalwart  peasants  ;  and  straight- 
backed  girls,  bearing  amphorae  on  their  heads,  walked 


156  GOOD  AMERICANS 

with  a  free,  firm  tread  in  heelless  slippers.  And  this, 
as  Sybil  saw  it,  was  the  modern  procession  upon  the 
classic  Sacred  Way ! 

They  had  stopped  for  a  bit  to  visit  the  ancient 
Byzantine  church  at  Daphni,  with  its  old  mosaics 
newly  brought  to  light  by  the  Grecian  Archaeological 
Society  5  and  then  drove  on  to  where  the  Bay  of 
Eleusis,  a  rippled  sheet  of  blue,  laughed  as  it  came 
up  to  their  feet. 

Here,  where  once  Demeter's  maidens  danced  and 
sang,  and  waved  their  garlands  about  the  flower- 
wreathed  animals  they  led  to  sacrifice,  our  couple 
fell  to  talking,  as  moderns  will,  of  subjects  far  re 
moved  from  these  retrospects  of  long-gone  days. 

"  You  did  not  hear  me,  dearest ;  you  are  not  listen 
ing,"  said  her  husband,  after  he  had  repeated  a  remark 
about  the  lakes  above  the  road,  wherein  the  priests 
of  Eleusis  used  to  fish.  "Now  you  are  thinking  of 
something  that  gives  you  pain.  May  n't  I  share  it, 
Sybil?" 

They  were  on  the  rear  seat  of  an  old  caleche,  the 
dragoman  and  driver  up  in  front.  For  the  last  ten 
minutes  the  dragoman  had  consented  to  intermit  his 
eternal  contributions  to  their  knowledge  of  events 
and  localities,  and  was  enjoying  a  cigarette. 

"  It  is  nothing  —  just  a  trifle,"  she  contradicted 
herself  in  feminine  fashion.  "  I  wish,  Peter,  we  were 
going  to  housekeeping  in  that  red  farm-house  behind 
the  high  walls !  I  like  its  tiled  roof  with  the  gay 
colors,  and  the  vines  trailed  over  the  balcony  in 
front,  and  those  vineyards  and  olive-orchards  all 
around  j  but  alas  !  n 


GOOD  AMERICANS  157 

"Why  do  you  sigh?  You  must  tell  me,  Sybil," 
urged  the  impatient  lover. 

"  I  am  vexed  with  myself  for  caring  what  that  girl 
said  last  night." 

Little  by  little  he  drew  from  her  her  tilt  with  Clari- 
bel  Hilton.  His  eye  flashed  and  his  lip  curled  when 
he  heard  it. 

"You  could  mind  that?  Ymi,  who  are  my  wife! 
My  wife ! " 

"  Peter,  I  told  you  I  was  ashamed  of  it.  I  am  not 
a  strong,  big  man.  I  7m  only  a  girl  brought  up  to 
consider  these  things  all-important.  If  I  do  not 
think  so  still,  it  is  because  I  fell  in  love  with  you." 

"  The  triviality  of  it !  The  vulgarity  !  Why,  we 
are  as  far  above  such  people  as—  That  it  should 
find  a  lodgment  in  your  brain,  much  less  wound  your 
sensibilities—" 

Sybil  hung  her  head,  blushing  deeply. 

"Do  these  puppets  flatter  themselves  they  are 
'living  in  an  ethereal  atmosphere  and  breathing  the 
air  of  the  gods'?  And  can  my  Sybil  fancy—" 

He  stopped  suddenly,  as  if  disdaining  to  carry  out 
the  protest.  Sybil,  who  had  never  seen  him  angry, 
shrunk  within  herself.  She  thought  he  was  making 
it  unnecessarily  hard  for  her,  and  bringing  super 
fluous  energy  to  bear  upon  his  expressions. 

"  Puppets  they  may  be,  but  till  now  they  have  been 
all  the  friends  I  have  had— that  is,  if  you  mean  those 
I  lived  among  till  I  met  you,"  she  said. 

He  did  not  answer,  and  in  this  strained  mental 
attitude  they  drove  to  the  foot  of  the  hillside  scarred 
with  excavations,  and  scattered  with  the  relics  of  the 


158  GOOD  AMERICANS 

glorious  Demeter's  shrines.  Leaving  the  carriage 
before  a  little  wine-shop  in  the  village,  they  climbed 
the  slope,  and  after  ascending  the  steps  of  the  Prop- 
ylaea,  stood  at  last  upon  the  marble  portico  of  the 
great  Temple  of  the  Mysteries.  The  autumn  sun  fell 
in  floods  about  them,  but  the  air  from  the  Ionian  was 
cool  and  crisp.  In  the  intense,  clear  light,  the  moun 
tains  of  Salamis  seemed  near  enough  to  caress  with 
the  hand.  The  sea  sparkled  with  a  million  facets. 
In  that  moment  of  supreme  beauty  the  spell  of  old 
days  descended  upon  the  pilgrims  5  their  little  troubles 
fell  away,  their  hearts  wavered  toward  each  other, 
and  then  blended  in  tenderness. 

"Do  you  know  what  the  Eleusinian  mysteries 
were  ? "  asked  Davenant  of  his  bride.  "  First,  worship 
of  a  woman,— a  true,  good,  loving  woman,— then  the 
cult  of  a  faith  that  led  its  votaries  on  from  aim  to 
aim  of  this  world  to  trust  in  a  world  to  come.  We 
are  standing  in  one  of  the  most  famous  spots  in  his 
toric  Attica,  and,  as  it  seems  to  me,  the  source  of  the 
noblest  impulses  of  those  old  pagans'  lives." 

"  Forgive  me !  "  murmured  Sybil  in  his  ear,  as  she 
rested  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

This  was  not  relevant,  but  Peter  understood,  and 
was  touched  by  it.  His  brief  anger  long  since  spent, 
he  had  been  reproaching  himself  bitterly  for  the  pain 
he  had  caused  her.  They  began  anew  their  explora 
tions,  and  before  it  was  time  to  return  Sybil  had 
merrily  proposed  to  him  to  "  set  up  housekeeping  "  in 
the  cave  where  Pluto  had  carried  Proserpine  to  spend 
her  honeymoon ! 


GOOD  AMERICANS  159 

WITH  all  his  desire  to  visit  Olympia  alone  with  Sybil, 
Davenant  could  not  be  selfish  enough  to  deny  her  the 
delight  of  a  run  in  the  Almee  to  Patras,  whence  they 
would  go  on  by  rail  to  visit  the  ruined  city  of  the 
divine  Hermes.  This  excursion,  projected  by  the  men 
of  her  party,  had  found  Mrs.  Willoughby  averse  to  again 
"  undertaking  to  squeeze  through  that  dreadfully  nar 
row  Canal  of  Corinth,  where  they  had  banged  against 
the  sides  last  time,  and  frightened  her  nearly  to  death." 

Mrs.  Willoughby  therefore  electing  to  go  by  rail  to 
Patras,  her  husband  felt  that  he  must  needs  accom 
pany  her,  thus  leaving  Sybil  to  chaperon  Miss  Hilton 
on  the  yacht. 

By  half-past  eight  of  a  fine,  bright  day,  when  the 
arch  of  blue  overhead  seemed  a  single  hollow  gem, 
they  embarked  at  the  Piraeus  and,  taking  possession 
of  the  wicker  chairs  and  umbrellas  on  the  carpeted 
deck,  were  soon  cutting  the  sapphire  sea  to  round 
Salamis.  Sybil,  leaning  back,  with  Lang  established 
at  her  side  for  the  morning,  took  as  a  matter  of 
course  this  situation,  that  proved  so  annoying  to  her 
husband— and  to  one  other.  She  had  always  been 
accustomed  to  see  men  keeping  at  a  distance  from 
their  wives  when  in  parties  on  pleasure  bent.  For  her, 
under  the  present  circumstances,  to  withdraw  with 
Davenant  would  have  been  manifestly  in  bad  taste ; 
and  Willy  Lang's  languid  civilities  could  give  concern 
to  no  one  save  Claribel,  whom  he  took  visible  pains 
to  flout.  Miss  Hilton,  in  self-defense,  assumed  hilar 
ity,  laughing  aloud,  and  engaging  the  others  to  admire 
her  pretty  vagaries. 


160  GOOD  AMERICANS 

Davenant,  finding  his  occupation  gone,  walked  off 
forward,  and  while  smoking  alone  surveyed  the  scene 
with  an  interest  unquenched  by  adverse  circumstance. 
At  midday  they  steamed  in  between  the  steep  clay 
and  gravel  banks  of  the  canal,— dreamed  of  in  vain 
by  Caesar,  Nero,  and  Adrian,  —with  its  railroad  bridge 
lying  like  a  ladder  across  the  chasm  high  above ;  and, 
making  the  entry  of  the  Gulf  of  Corinth  in  safety, 
the  Almee  began  a  voyage  every  hour  of  which  over 
flowed  with  interest  and  beauty. 

"  Luncheon,  luncheon  !  "  cried  the  thin,  high-pitched 
voice  of  Miss  Hilton  in  Davenant's  ear.  "  Antiquity 's 
all  very  well,  but  the  rest  of  us  are  starving." 

"  I  am  sure  my  wife  will  excuse  me  till  we  've  passed 
the  Aero-Corinth,"  he  said  ;  "  then  I  shall  make  up  for 
my  delay  by  eating  all  there  is." 

"I  keep  forgetting  that  Mrs.  Davenant  is  playing 
hostess  for  the  day,"  said  Claribel,  her  eyes  flashing 
through  her  mask  veil  of  white  gauze.  "  And  so  does 
she,  apparently.  One  has  n't  the  heart  to  interrupt 
that  nice  long  tete-a-tete,  has  one  ?  You  know,  they 
say  Lang  values  only  what  's  out  of  his  reach.  A 
year  ago  at  Newport  it  was  she  who— but  here  am  I 
letting  my  giddy  tongue  run  on.  Of  course  Sybil  has 
repented  of  girlish  follies,  and  is  going  to  be  a  model 
matron  now— just  like  her  dear  friend  Etta !  " 

Davenant  did  not  answer.  With  glass  lifted,  he 
was  scanning  the  grand,  bold  promontory  crowned 
with  the  ruined  castle  of  Penteskoupia,  at  foot  of 
which,  close  to  the  water's  edge,  lies  the  modern  town 
of  Corinth. 

''I  suppose  all  moons  must  wane,"  went  on  his 


GOOD  AMERICANS  161 

tormentor,  artlessly.  "  Sybil  was  saying  how  im 
mensely  jolly  it  is  to  have  run  upon  our  jolly  lot. 
To  look  at  her,  one  would  n't  suppose  she  is  a  recent 
loving  bride.  But  that  ;s  an  immense  relief  to  every 
body.  If  there  's  anything  that  bores  hopelessly,  it 
is  newly  married  gush." 

Davenant,  turning,  directed  his  gaze  across  the 
wide,  sparkling  gulf  to  the  range  upon  range  of 
Boeotian  and  Peloponnesian  hills.  Above  them  tow 
ered  Parnassus,  gray  and  hoary,  with  patches  of  black 
moss  in  its  cavernous  depressions.  The  mountain  of 
the  Muses  was  now  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  blue- 
black  cloud,  whence  a  column  of  white  mist,  shot  with 
sunlight,  arose  to  heaven. 

"  An  altar  of  the  gods ;  not  a  green  thing  in  sight ; 
Apollo  fled !  n  he  muttered  to  himself. 

Miss  Hilton,  properly  rebuked  for  her  impertinence, 
could  not  withhold  a  final  shaft. 

"  Then  I  shall  tell  Sybil  you  want  us  to  go  to  lunch 
eon  without  you  ?  "  she  said,  moving  off.  "  Take  my 
word  for  it,  she  '11  prove  resigned.  If  she  's  a  wise 
woman  she  11  make  the  best  of  being  with  people  of 
her  own  set  now.  When  she  gets  back  to  New  York 
she  may  feel  the  need  of  them." 

After  luncheon,  Sybil,  slipping  her  arm  through 
her  husband's,  led  him  away  to  a  quiet  spot. 

"  You  have  been  teased  by  that  horrid  Claribel  ? " 
she  said.  "  I  saw  it  the  moment  you  came  in  to  table. 
Your  eyes  have  a  cloudy  look  ;  nobody's  eyes  are  as 
beautiful  as  yours,  Peter—" 

"  I  was  a  fool  to  come  on  this  party,"  he  said,  smil 
ing  at  her  feminine  method  of  peace-making;  "but 


11 


162  GOOD  AMERICANS 

where  you  're  concerned  I  must  always  be  a  fool,  I 
suppose.  Sybil,  this  shows  you  our  lives  have  nothing 
in  common  with  chattering  idlers.  I  can't  fit  my  feet 
to  their  pace.  I  want  you  to  myself,  to  walk  with  me, 
apart !  If  you  love  me,  give  up  the  attempt  to  join 
your  old  life  with  the  new.  Let  us  cut  loose  from 
your  past,  and  work  out  our  own  future." 

"  My  dearest  Peter,  you  are  not  practical,'7  she  said, 
in  perfect  amity.  "  Because  Willy  Lang  is  an  amus 
ing  do-nothing,  and  Claribel  Hilton  a  sharp-tongued, 
spiteful  creature,  let  us  not  be  driven  to  make  such 
desperate  resolution !  My  whole  heart  is  yours.  I 
am  happier  with  you  than  I  could  be  elsewhere.  But 
we  can't  break  with  people.  In  two  words,  we  must 
live  for  others  as  well  as  for  ourselves." 

"  My  Sybil  a  moral  philosopher !  "  he  exclaimed  in 
a  voice  that  showed  a  tinge  of  vexation. 

"  Don't  mock  me,  Peter.  I  am  only  talking  com 
mon  sense." 

"Away  with -common  sense  when  we  are  sailing 
under  Parnassus  !  "  he  cried  petulantly.  Somehow, 
he  seemed  to  her  like  a  big,  vexed  child.  The  pro 
tecting,  soothing  impulse  came  over  her  with  a  wave. 

"I  love  you,"  she  said  simply,  turning  upon  him 
the  gaze  of  her  bluest  of  eyes. 

THEIR  day,  thus  checkered,  passed  into  sunset.  Le- 
panto,  Don  John  of  Austria  and  his  courtiers  danc 
ing  down  to  death,  Byron  and  Missolonghi  (whose  two 
lights  glimmered  afar  as  the  dusk  fell),  even  the  cur 
rant  industries  of  the  shores  of  this  inland  sea, 
were  discussed  between  them  at  intervals,  when- 


GOOD  AMERICANS  163 

ever  Sybil  could  leave  the  party  to  join  her  hus 
band.  Davenant,  throwing  off  all  pretense  of  socia 
bility,  kept  himself  aloof— or,  as  Miss  Hilton  after 
ward  informed  her  friends,  sulked  bearishly.  Sybil 
did  not  mind  his  bearishness.  She  knew  the  cause  of 
it,  and  forgave.  But  she  was  aware  of  a  panic  she 
had  rather  have  been  spared,  lest  the  present  condi 
tions  should  extend  into  her  'future  in  a  way  that 
would  hedge  her  in  unpleasantly.  She  saw  that  be 
tween  their  two  lives  of  every  day  an  intermittent 
rivulet  of  separating  habit  ran.  She  resolved  that, 
come  what  might,  it  should  not  widen  to  a  constant 
stream. 

These  reflections  went  with  her  to  Olympia  into  the 
presence  of  Hermes,  standing  on  his  pedestal,  smiling 
immortally  at  the  infant  in  his  arms.  And  she  no 
ticed  that  Peter,  who  had  hitherto  yielded  himself 
prisoner  at  once  to  such  marvels  of  ancient  art,  with 
the  homage  of  a  rapt  school-boy  and  a  fond  scholar 
combined,  now  stood  before  the  masterpiece  of  Praxi 
teles  in  almost  moody  silence  as  he  gazed  abstractedly. 

When  they  were  in  the  train  going  back  to  Athens, 
—for  it  was  resolved  to  leave  the  Almee  at  Patras 
pending  the  voyage  of  her  owners  to  Corfu,— Mrs. 
Willoughby,  who  noticed  Peter's  aloofness  from  their 
party,  of  which  Sybil  was  still  the  center,  said  with  a 
laugh  in  the  bride's  ear : 

"  Seems  a  little  out  of  sorts  with  us,  does  n't  he  ? 
But  dear  me,  child,  it  would  n't  be  a  honeymoon 
without  a  tiff  or  two !  Besides,  your  honeymoon  7s 
over,  days  and  days  ago." 

Sybil  sighed. 


ISS  CARNIFEX  sat  in  her  morning- 
room,  directing  envelops  for  the  cir 
culars  of  a  newly  organized  society 
of  which  she  was  president,  secretary, 
and  board  of  managers  in  one.  It 
had  been  a  forlorn  hope  of  charity, 
of  which  she  had  taken  charge.  Until  it  should  be 
more  upon  its  feet  she  would  not  expend  a  penny  of 
their  small  fund  in  employing  help  for  its  clerical 
needs. 

While  thus  occupied,  her  father,  in  bicycle  costume, 
in  which  he  resembled  an  ancient  Strephon,  came  in, 
and  stood  discontentedly  upon  the  hearth-rug  before 
a  little  wood  fire  that  the  cool  spring  morning  had 
made  agreeable. 

"I  wish  to  goodness  you  'd  drop  those  decrepit 
widows,  or  whatever  they  are,  and  come  for  a  spin 
with  me  out  to  the  Riverside,"  he  observed. 

"With  pleasure,  daddy,"  said  she.  "I  'm  on  the 
last  quarter  of  my  last  hundred,  as  it  is.  I  thought 
you  were  safe  and  happy  in  your  chair,  reading  that 
new  novel  I  gave  you,  that  everybody  's  talking 
about." 

"  I  've  had  to  go  back  as  much  as  three  times  and 
164 


GOOD  AMERICANS  165 

re-read  a  page  to  find  out  what  the  woman  means/' 
was  the  vexed  answer.  "  Her  sentences  are  so  swathed 
in  mystery  I  could  n't  make  head  or  tail  of  the  story. 
Give  me  a  good,  rattling  novel  of  adventure  in  plain 
words,  say  I !  I  would  n't  exchange  l  Monte  Cristo ' 
or  i  Ivanhoe '  for  a  year's  issue  of  this  modern  stuff." 

"Nobody  's  going  to  interfere  with  your  l Monte 
Cristos '  and  i  Ivanhoes,'  daddy.  But,  before  I  go  to 
change,  have  you  seen  in  the  morning  papers  about 
that  will  of  Mrs.  Lewiston's  ? " 

"  No  j  but  I  hope  the  old  woman  relented,  and  left 
a  few  thousands  a  year  to  help  out  Sybil  Davenant." 

"No  mention  whatever  of  Sybil.  With  a  few 
legacies  to  those  spoiled  old  servants  of  hers,  and  a 
thousand  a  year  to  her  cousin  Annie  James,  what  is 
not  given  to  St.  Clair  Lewiston  goes  outright  to  build 
a  new  wing  to  St.  Jeremy's  Hospital,  of  which  her 
husband  was  a  director." 

"I  am  sorry  for  that,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
thoughtfully.  "But  no  one  who  knew  her  will  be 
surprised.  Davenant's  refusal  to  live  in  her  house 
spoiled  the  only  attempt  at  peace-making.  They  say 
that  poor  stick  of  a  son,  St.  Clair,  is  on  his  last  legs, 
and  his  money  will  go  to  an  uncle  in  Omaha.  I  'd 
have  thought  Mrs.  Lewiston  would  outlive  St.  Clair, 
certainly.  Gad !  you  may  n't  believe  it,  but  she  was 
a  monstrous  pretty  girl.  I  remember  her  and  her 
sister  Sybil  at  a  ball  at  old  Delmonico's  in  Fourteenth 
street ;  dressed  alike,  in  white  tarlatan,  with  camellias 
in  their  hair.  It  made  my  heart  go  pit-a-pat  when  I 
danced  a  redowa  with  Sybil,  I  remember.  She  mar 
ried  Gwynne,  a  kind  of  a  shilly-shally  man  who  col- 


166  GOOD  AMERICANS 

lected  embroideries  and  carried  intaglios  about  in  his 
waistcoat  pocket.     Gwynne  could  n't  stand  the  crude 
atmosphere  of  America,  he  said.    When  I  saw  him  in 
Paris,  in  '71,  he  was  the  most  aimless  ass  I  ever  looked 
at.     Spent  his  life  in  bric-a-brac  shops,  Hotel  Drouot, 
and  all  that.      The  only  thing  that  kept  me  from 
wanting  to  kick  Gwynne  was  that  he  knew  wines." 
"  At  least  he  was  amiable,  I  've  heard." 
"  Amiable !     Who  wants  a  man  to  be  amiable  ? " 
"  It  's  a  deadly  fact,  father,  that  you  are  so  your 
self." 

"Nothing  of  the  sort!  I  detest  skim-milk.  No 
body  's  worth  living  with  who  has  n't  got  a  dash  of 
old  Adam  or  Eve  in  'em.  The  grudge  I  cherish 
against  Gwynne  is  that  he  was  one  of  the  pioneers  in 
this  running-away-from-home-to-live-abroad  business. 
And  the  best  commentary  I  can  make  on  that  is  to 
point  you  to  a  result.  Look  at  his  daughter,  Sybil 
Davenant." 

"  Father  dear,"  said  Agatha,  putting  down  her  pen, 
and  straightening  her  desk  mechanically,  "I  think 
you  are  too  severe  on  Sybil." 

"  They  have  been  married  hardly  any  time,  and  yet 
she  has  managed  to  warp  that  fine  fellow  away  from 
his  career." 

Agatha's  face  was  grave ;  her  hand  shook  over  her 
work. 

"  Indeed,  daddy,  that  's  too  much  to  say." 
"  I  know  what  I  'm  talking  about.     The  whole  bent 
of  Sybil's  life  and  thoughts  is  in  the  opposite  direc 
tion  from  his ;  he  adores  her ;  and— you  see  the  con 
sequence." 


GOOD  AMERICANS  167 

"He  is  no  weakling,"  cried  Miss  Carnifex,  with 
spirit. 

"No;  it  is  the  very  strength  of  his  love  that  7s 
blinded  him  to  the  rest.  Grantham  himself  told  me, 
when  he  dined  here  the  other  day,  and  you  women 
were  in  the  drawing-room,  that — this  was  his  very 
expression— 'Davenant  has  stopped  short.7" 

"It  is  a  phase.  He  will  pass  out  of  it.  He  will 
never  stop,  except  to  get  breath  by  the  way." 

"  It  is  ridiculous,  in  the  first  place,  to  see  him  dan 
cing  attendance  on  her  at  the  kind  of  places  she  goes 
to.  And  what  7s  more,  they  can't  afford  it.  They 
must  be  living  beyond  his  means.  When  it  is  known 
Sybil's  aunt  has  died  without  leaving  her  a  penny, 
people  will  see  that  the  Davenants  have  been  going 
on  too  fast.  When  they  first  came  home,  he  con 
sulted  me  about  a  little  house  that  I  advised  him  to 
buy  and  try  to  live  in  for  a  dozen  years.  The  next 
thing  I  heard  was  that  they  had  rented  a  furnished 
house  in  a  part  where  there  are  nothing  but  fancy 
prices.  When  we  dined  with  them  I  could  see  that 
the  whole  scale  is  above  what  it  ought  to  be.  And, 
while  she  is  as  lovely  and  sweet  and  loving  to  him 
as  ever,  he  looks  jaded.  Yes,  Agatha,  you  know 
it  5  I  see  in  your  face  you  think  so,  too.  Peter 
Davenant  has  made  a  big  mistake.  And  if  you  '11 
please  remember,  I  told  you  what  would  follow  that 
first  meeting  of  theirs  at  the  Granthams7.77 

"  Daddy  dear,  if  1 7m  going  to  wheel  with  you,  I  7d 
better  dress  now,77  said  his  daughter,  hastening  from 
the  room. 

"You  did  not  allow  me  to  get  in  my  fine  point 


168  GOOD  AMERICANS 

about  that  marriage,"  went  on  her  father,  when,  quite 
out  of  the  park,  they  were  speeding  together  along 
the  Drive  bordering  the  Hudson.  "It  is  this.  She 
finds  a  rival  in  his  intense  Americanism.  For  her 
sort,  America  is  a  place  to  endure  with  philosophy, 
then  hasten  away  from.  She  expects  her  husband  to 
tag  after  her,  begad !  But  that  Davenant  won't  do. 
He  will  stick  to  his  work,  keep  his  beliefs,  but  struggle 
against  a  perpetual  current  forcing  him  backward. 
And  this,  Miss  Carnifex,  is  the  kind  of  wife  lots  of 
sensible  parents  of  your  and  my  acquaintance  are 
educating  their  daughters  to  be." 

Agatha,  in  her  heart  painfully  convinced,  again 
turned  the  conversation.  When  they  had  gone  as 
far  as  desirable,  and  turned,  they  met  many  other 
couples  on  wheels,  enjoying  the  quiet  of  the  morning 
hour.  Among  these  they  were  saluted  by  Sybil 
Davenant  and  Mr.  Willy  Lang,  who  were  going 
rapidly,  she  in  high  spirits. 

"  There  ?s  another  thing  an  old  fogy  does  n't  fancy," 
resumed  Mr.  Carnifex.  "  The  idea  of  a  man  down  in 
his  office  slaving  all  day,  and  his  young  wife  careering 
around  on  a  bicycle  in  company  with  another  fellow  !  " 

"Daddy,  I  thought  you  considered  a  bicycle  the 
greatest  moral  agent  of  the  times." 

"  With  a  nincompoop  like  that !  " 

"Last  time  you  mentioned  him  he  was  an  addle- 
pated  sponge,"  suggested  Miss  Carnifex,  with  a  smile. 

"He  is  both— a  sponge  and  an  addle-pate.  And 
considering  that  her  name  has  been  coupled  with  his 
lately  in  a  very  offensive  fashion—" 

"Has  it?" 


GOOD  AMERICANS  169 

"Yes;  and  1 'm  even  told  that  a  morning  paper— 
bah !  I  'm  sick  of  the  subject." 

"I  knew  there  was  a  story  afloat  about  Davenant 
having  treated  her  brutally  on  their  wedding- journey, 
somewhere  in  Greece,"  said  Agatha,  flaming  indig 
nantly.  "  The  most  outrageous  manufacture  !  But 
I  never  heard  of  this  later  invention.  Father  dear, 
don't  you  think  if  people  would  only  leave  young 
married  couples  alone,  to  work  out  their  life-problems, 
things  would  go  far  better?  I  am  shocked— grieved 
by  what  you  tell  me.  Somebody  should— it  is  hardly 
my  place— who  is  there,  though,  to  warn  that  poor 
thing  ?  I  believe  she  has  not  an  idea  of  it.  She  takes 
Lang  as  a  pendant— the  sort  of  hanger-on  women  in 
her  set  have,  because  it 's  the  fashion.*7 

"  An  edged-tool  play,  at  best.  Never  mind,  Agatha ; 
if  we  can't  help  her,  let  us  be  selfish  and  enjoy  this 
fine  spring  day.  There  's  a  view  for  you — the  river 
and  the  Palisades.  Gad !  what  an  appetite  I  '11  have 
for  lunch ! " 

But  Agatha,  slow  to  arouse  to  interference  with 
other  people's  affairs,  had  determined  to  see  if  there 
was  anywhere  room  for  her  to  speak  or  act  in  Sybil's 
aid.  The  same  afternoon  she  set  out  late  to  walk  to 
the  Davenants'  house,  and  was  joined  in  the  Avenue 
by  Ainslie. 

"  May  I  go  with  you  a  little  way  ? "  he  said.  "  It 
is  an  age  since  I  Ve  got  in  to  have  a  talk  with  you 
when  there  were  not  other  men  about." 

"We  can't  succeed  in  entrapping  so  fine  a  gentle 
man  to  our  lowly  banquets,  it  appears." 

"  That 's  not  fair.     Both  times  you  asked  me  I  had 


170  GOOD  AMERICANS 

promised  some  one  three  weeks  ahead.  But  I  'm 
beginning  to  swear  off  from  the  invitations.  I  'm 
tired  of  them,  to  begin  with,  and,  secondly,  I  find  they 
don't  fit  in  with  working-hours  next  day." 

"I  hear  golden  opinions  of  you  from  my  father/7 
she  said. 

"He  is  flattering  to  a  struggling  kinsman,  that  's 
all.  I  'm  really  a  duffer  at  business.  But,  having 
started  in,  I  'm  not  going  to  drop  out ;  and,  strange 
to  say,  I  7m  beginning  to  have  a  glimmer  of  belief  I 
can  sometime  get  ahead." 

"  That  is  well !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  am  heartily 
glad  to  hear  it." 

"  It  was  because  you  were  l  heartily 7  in  favor  of  it 
that  I  first  put  my  shoulder  to  the  wheel,  I  think. 
There  is  nothing  like  a  clear-eyed  woman  friend  to 
help  a  fellow  on  his  way.  But  I  'm  at  a  wretched 
disadvantage  beside  so  many  fellows  who  were  trained 
up  to  it  step  by  step.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  am  like 
a  foreigner  getting  naturalized.  But  no  more  about 
myself.  You  won't  come  in  here  and  look  at  the 
pictures?"  pausing  before  the  portal  of  a  gallery  of 
renown. 

"  No ;  I  have  just  time  to  get  to  Sybil  Davenant's. 
You  may  walk  with  me  there,  if  you  like.  But  if  she 
is  in,  you  must  leave  me  at  the  door.  I  am  anxious 
to  catch  her,  if  possible,  alone." 

"It  is  long  since  I  Ve  attempted  that,"  he  said, 
meeting  her  eye  unconcernedly.  "At  first  I  kept 
away  because  it  was  dangerous  to  my  peace  of  mind. 
Now  I  rarely  find  her  without  one  man  or  another 
whom  I  don't  like  in  attendance.  Actually,  I  was 


GOOD  AMERICANS  171 

once  goose  enough  to  believe  Sybil  Gwynne  superior 
to  that  kind  of  thing;  now  I  find  she  's  like  all  the 
rest." 

"  You  were  her  friend— you  are  still,"  said  Agatha ; 
"  can't  you  do  something  to  stem  the  tide  of  gossip 
that  's  rising  around  her  ? " 

"I  would  be  glad  to  settle  whoever  started  that 
abominable  lie,  if  that 's  what  you  mean." 

"  I  do  mean  that.  I  hardly  think  her  husband  can 
be  aware  of  it." 

"If  he  is,  what  can  he  do ?  There  's  some  enemy 
at  work  with  her  good  name.  To-day  there  was  a 
hint,  in  print,  that  her  old  lover  Cameron  was  coming 
back  to  New  York,  but  would  find  his  way  l  blocked.7 
Now,  I  believe  Cameron  has  n't  an  idea  of  returning 
to  New  York.  I  hear,  in  fact,  he 's  going  to  marry  an 
Honorable  Miss  Somebody  he  's  known  all  his  life. 
But  the  idea  will  get  abroad,  and  the  originator's  pur 
pose  will  be  served." 

Agatha,  whom  a  man-servant  in  groom's  livery  at 
Mrs.  Davenant's  residence  had  invited  to  walk  in,  felt 
a  little  timorous  about  her  errand  when  on  the  point 
of  meeting  its  object. 

She  passed  through  a  square  hall  in  the  middle  of 
the  house,  blocked  with  a  table  and  chairs  of  carved 
Venetian  wood,  into  a  drawing-room  crowded  with 
furniture  that  seemed  not  only  to  have  outgrown  its 
quarters,  but  to  be  overdressed.  In  the  light  of  a 
large,  pink-shaded  lamp,  Sybil,  wearing  street  attire, 
as  if  she  had  just  come  in,  sat  by  a  tea-table.  The 
other  inmate  of  the  room  was  Mr.  Willy  Lang,  who 
was  just  getting  up  to  go. 


172  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"I  was  delighted  to  hear  your  name/7  said  Sybil, 
affectionately  taking  her  visitor  by  the  hand.  "  You 
are  one  of  those  of  whom  one  never  is  allowed  to  have 
enough.  Sit  down  in  that  chair ;  it 's  one  of  the  few 
comfortable  seats  in  the  house.  I  hate  rented  furni 
ture  j  don't  you  ?  But  what  are  we  paupers  to  do  ?  If 
we  ever  get  a  house  of  our  own,  I  shall  have  nothing 
to  put  into  it  but  some  of  my  mother's  things  that  have 
lain  for  years  in  a  storage  warehouse.  Black-satin 
chairs,  and  couches  with  red  buttons,  and  i  suites '  of 
blue-flowered  brocatelle  with  bullion  fringe.  Can't  you 
see  them  ?  Sugar  and  cream  ?  How  well  you  look  ! 
I  thought  so  when  we  met  you  in  the  Drive  to-day ; 
and  your  dear  old,  crusty,  clever,  sweet-tempered 
father !— he  is  an  evergreen  !  " 

"It  was  because  we  met  you  that  I  came,"  said 
Agatha,  who  did  not  lack  for  courage  j  "  and  what  I 
saw  when  I  got  here  gave  me  a  better  reason  for  mak 
ing  myself  disagreeable." 

"  Willy  Lang  ?  Why,  he 's  a  fireside  animal  in  every 
house  where  he  chooses  to  drop  in.  My  dear  Agatha 
Carnif  ex,  you  surely  don't  credit  any  of  the  absurdities 
you  hear  about  me  and  himself  ? " 

"  You  know,  then,  that  people  talk  ?  In  that  case— 
pray  pardon  me ;  if  you  were  my  sister  I  'd  say  the 
same— is  it  wise  for  you  to  be  seen  with  him  twice  in 
one  day?" 

Sybil  could  not  be  vexed  j  but  she  answered  the  hint 
of  danger  by  a  ringing  laugh  of  amusement. 

"Why,  Lang  is  so  good  to  bicycle  with,  I  can't 
afford  to  lose  him.  And  you,  who  know  Peter,  can 
think  Lang  dangerous  ?  " 


GOOD  AMERICANS  173 

"I  don't  think  so.  The  world  is  not  so  discrimi 
nating." 

"  Then  trust  me.  Just  now,  since  Aunt  Lewiston's 
death,  we  can  go  nowhere,  and  I  need  something  to 
take  me  out  of  myself.  Oh,  Agatha,  you  do  house 
keeping  !  Is  n't  it  simply  awful,  with  these  servants 
we  have  ?  I  wonder  if  that  man  is  listening  behind  the 
portieres.  One  never  knows,  else,  how  they  find  out 
all  our  affairs.  I  have  a  tower  of  Babel  in  my  little 
servants'  hall :  a  Swedish  cook,  a  French  maid,  an  Eng 
lish  butler,  a  Belgian  footman,  and  a  Finnish  laun 
dress  !  And  I  begin  to  believe  I  hate  them  all.  The 
winter  has  been  one  wild  confusion,  shifting  and 
changing  them.  They  backbite  each  other  so  there  is 
not  a  moment's  peace.  This  morning  my  cook  asked 
an  hour's  leave  of  absence  to  take  a  bicycle-lesson, 
that  she  might  go  out  on  the  road  with  '  the  Stanley 
girls'— meaning  Etta's  servants!  I  wish  you  could 
see  my  cook— forty-five,  fat,  and  blowzy.  I  believe 
my  butler  takes  photographs ;  and  the  footman  plays 
on  a  mandolin." 

"  Did  you  hear  of  the  lady  whose  cook  told  her  the 
servants  liked  the  new  butler,  because  he  gave  them 
such  interesting  lectures  about  how  they  were  all  de 
scended  from  Mr.  Darwin  f  " 

"  I  wish  mine  were,"  said  Sybil.  "  There  would  be 
some  hope  of  law  and  order  then.  And  the  prices 
of  things— the  bills— the  cheating  of  tradespeople! 
Agatha,  I  'm  afraid  I  'm  glad  there  is  no  place  like 
home." 

"  You  naughty  girl !  "  said  her  friend.  "  It 's  because 
you  were  taken  unexpectedly.  You  knew  nothing  of 


174  GOOD  AMERICANS 

our  eccentricities  of  New  York  service.  And,  if  I  may 
say  so,  this  little  house  must  be  overcrowded  with 
people  to  neglect  the  work." 

"  I  suppose  so  j  I  have  n't  the  least  idea/7  said  Sybil, 
helplessly.  "  I  began  the  way  I  thought  things  ought 
to  be,  and  Peter  knew  less  than  I  did.  If  it  had  n't 
been  for  a  tremendously  good  fee  that  came  to  him 
directly  we  got  back  from  our  wedding- journey,  I  be 
lieve  we  'd  have  starved.  And  1 'm  sure  I  do  prodigies 
of  housekeeping.  I  look  under  things,  and  sniff  at 
places,  and  make  out  the  nicest  little  menus  with  the 
cook.  We  have  no  carriage,  and  simply  ruin  ourselves 
in  cabs  to  go  out  to  dinner  and  the  opera  and  balls." 

"  Your  husband  goes  to  balls  ?  The  world  is  revolu 
tionized  ! " 

"  He  is  an  angel !  "  cried  Sybil.  "  He  even  offers  to 
go  with  me.  And  he  stays  out  the  cotillion  like  a 
lamb.  Etta  says  he  is  a  revelation  of  what  may  be 
done  with  unpromising  material." 

"And  he  likes  it?"  said  Agatha,  after  a  pause. 

"  He  does  n't  mind.  Perhaps  he  would  like  better 
if  we  had  a  little  more  time  to  ourselves  at  home.  But 
how  can  we,  with  dining  out  so  much— the  usual  thing, 
you  know— I  've  never  done  anything  else.  Certainly 
he 's  a  great  success ;  even  Etta  says  so.  Women  rave 
over  him.  But  I  'm  not  at  all  jealous.  I  like  him 
to  be  admired;  and  especially  since  Claribel  Hilton 
talked  so  patronizingly  at  first  about  Peter's  not 
'knowing  people.'  I  believe  it  was  Claribel  who 
launched  us !  I  think,  but  for  her,  I  7d  have  been 
content  to  fall  out  of  society.  I  have  that  maid 
she  had  last  year,— Franchise,— and  I  suspect  the 


GOOD  AMEEICANS  175 

creature  goes  and  boasts  to  Claribel  of  all  our  gay 
doings." 

This,  alas  !  was  not  the  wife  Davenant  had  dreamed 
of  winning,  thought  Agatha,  with  a  real  pang.  Sybil's 
rattling  speech,  her  touch  of  recklessness,  must  come 
from  some  worry  she  did  not  choose  to  display. 

She  showed  Agatha  the  house,  no  part  of  which  re 
vealed  a  spot  that  pointed  to  repose  after  a  busy  day. 
It  was  the  perch  of  birds  of  passage  ;  that  was  all. 

"  There  's  something  lacking,  but  I  don't  know  what 
it  is,"  commented  Mrs.  Davenant,  frankly ;  "  and  Peter, 
not  having  had  a  home  since  he  was  a  little  boy  on  the 
plantation,  can't  tell,  either." 

"  I  know,"  thought  Agatha ;  but  she  did  not 
speak. 

While  she  was  taking  leave  of  Sybil,  Mrs.  Grantham 
was  admitted  into  the  hall. 

As  Agatha  had  before  had  occasion  to  observe,  her 
friend  Katrina  had  also  suffered  a  change,  hardly  for 
the  better.  The  long  winter  spent  in  engineering  a 
debutante  from  one  scene  of  gaiety  to  another,  the 
half-sleepless  nights,  the  rushing  days,  had  told  upon 
Mrs.  Grantham's  pleasant,  placid  countenance.  She 
could  hardly  give  herself  time  to  sit  down  on  Sybil's 
little  sofa  under  the  pink-shaded  lamp.  Through  con 
tinually  darting  in  and  out  of  the  houses  of  her  ac 
quaintances  in  this  way,  she  had  come  to  abhor  little 
sofas  and  pink-shaded  lamps. 

The  present  visit  could  not  be  styled  one  of  condo 
lence  upon  the  death  of  Sybil's  aunt.  Katrina  knew, 
as  did  every  one,  that  the  Davenants  had  little  cause 
to  mourn  that  event  any  more  than  to  expect  consola- 


176  GOOD  AMERICANS 

tion  of  a  substantial  kind  from  it.  She  had  heard  also, 
from  her  husband,  that  Davenant's  stand  in  his  pro 
fession  had  begun  to  feel  his  relaxation  of  continuous 
interest  in  it,  and  that  the  young  couple  could  not  hope 
to  maintain  the  liberal  style  of  life  in  which  they  had 
begun.  She  had  a  sincere  wish  to  be  of  service  to 
Davenant's  wife,  but,  like  Agatha,  hardly  knew  how  to 
set  about  it.  The  sight  of  Miss  Carnif  ex,  already  in 
stalled  here  before  her,  gave  her  a  sense  of  encourage 
ment. 

"Don't  go,  Agatha/7  she  pleaded.  "Stop  awhile 
with  me,  and  1 11  drop  you  at  your  door.  I  had  ex 
pected  to  leave  two  more  sets  of  cards  to-day,  but  it 's 
impossible.  I  am  going  to  treat  myself  instead  to  a 
glimpse  of  you  two  nice  women." 

"My  husband  is  one  of  your  most  grateful  ad 
mirers,"  said  Sybil.  "  Whether  he  will  thank  you  as 
much  hereafter  for  leading  him  into  this  whirlpool 
called  matrimony,  I  can't  say.  But  we  cherish  that 
delightful  set  of  Thackeray  you  sent  us— and  your 
dear  father's  silver  dish,  too,  Agatha.  Whenever  I 
look  at  them  I  think  there  are  some  real  people  left  in 
the  world." 

"  You  may  consider  yourself  lucky  that  you  escaped 
a  diamond  cross  from  papa,"  said  Agatha.  "In  his 
day,  that  was  a  wedding-present  to  special  favorites." 

"  Then  Peter  would  have  worn  the  cross,  not  I.  I 
saw  disapproval  of  me  in  the  dear  old  gentleman's  eye 
this  morning  when  we  met  you  in  the  park.  Dear 
Mrs.  Grantham,  Agatha  has  come  here  to  scold  me  be 
cause—because—tell  her  why,  Agatha." 

"  No  one  could  scold  you  long ;  but  Mrs.  Grantham 


GOOD  AMERICANS  177 

will  tell  you  no  wife  as  young  and  pretty  as  you  are 
can  afford  to  throw  the  glove  into  the  face  of  public 
opinion,  no  matter  how  sure  of  herself  she  is." 

"Ah,  no,"  said  Katrina,  sighing.  "The  world  is 
very  hard  upon  pretty  young  women  who  are  brought 
before  it  for  approval.  I  have  even  heard  malicious 
criticisms  upon  my  poor  child,  who,  however,  is  going 
through  her  ordeal  without  the  least  thought  of  her 
judges.  Often  it  seems  to  me  not  worth  the  trouble 
I  Ve  undergone  to  put  her  on  exhibition,  poor  darling." 

"  Katty  looks  the  picture  of  health  and  enjoyment," 
said  Sybil. 

u  Yes  ;  but  her  parents  have  had  enough  of  it.  Our 
home  is  demoralized.  My  husband  and  sons  complain 
outspokenly.  After  all,  the  trouble  is  not  altogether 
in  the  high  pressure  of  the  times  and  of  our  commu 
nity.  In  the  early  days  after  my  marriage  people  ex 
pected  so  much  less  j  and  young  married  couples  were 
so  much  more — humdrum,  I  suppose  we  M  call  it  now. 
I  remember,  when  we  were  rather  poor,  and  I  had  my 
first  home,  with  a  tidy  little  maid  in  blue  ribbons  to 
open  the  door  and  wait  on  the  table,  how  many  happy 
evenings  I  spent  in  it,  when  my  husband  and  I  would 
sit  under  student-lamps,  reading,  and  when  now  and 
again  1 7d  listen  to  hear  if  one  of  my  babies  was  stir 
ring  in  the  crib  up-stairs.  Often,  in  answer  to  that 
little  helpless  cry  of  one  waking  in  the  dark,  have  I 
sped,  light-footed,  to  the  nursery— often  bent  down  and 
laid  my  cheek  on  baby's  cheek,  and  soothed  it  to  sleep 
again  •  and  the  pulse  of  that  baby  beating  against  mine 
has  given  me  joy  more  exquisite  than  anything  in 
life!" 

12 


178  GOOD  AMERICANS 

SYBIL,  going  to  her  room  after  her  friends  had  left, 
felt  in  a  strangely  softened  mood.  They  were  dining 
at  home  that  evening,  having  withdrawn  from  an  en 
gagement  out  of  respect  for  her  aunt's  memory.  As 
she  called  Franchise  to  attend  her  in  dressing,  the 
woman  emerged  from  the  adjoining  room  with  a  flush 
upon  her  face. 

"  I  was  only  putting  away  some  shirts  for  monsieur," 
she  muttered,  although  no  apology  was  called  for. 

"Put  out  something  white,  Franchise,— that  little 
high  frock  of  Indian  cashmere,"  said  her  mistress  5 
"  and  then  I  sha'n't  want  you  any  more." 

She  wished  to  be  alone.  As  she  sat  before  her  mir 
ror,  combing  her  wavy  golden  locks  and  twisting  them 
up  in  a  loose  knot  behind,  remembrance  came  to  her 
of  the  joyous  weeks  she  and  Peter  had  spent  away  to 
gether  following  their  marriage.  She  went  over  the 
many  acts  of  his  life  since  that  she  felt  must  have  been 
inspired  by  pure  unselfishness.  When  she  heard  his 
key  in  the  hall  door  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  keep 
still  and  await  his  coming  up.  She  ran  to  the  top  of 
the  stairs,  calling  out  happily,  "Oh,  Peter,  I  am  so 
thankful  you  have  come  !  " 

Peter  was  too  young  a  husband  to  resist  this.  Three 
steps  at  a  time  he  bounded  up  to  take  her  in  his  arms. 
Noticing  that  she  had  put  on  the  gown  he  liked  best, 
that  her  simple  hair- dressing  was  after  his  favorite 
fashion,  he  was  the  more  delighted.  A  cloud  that  he 
had  brought  up-town  and  across  his  own  threshold 
vanished  from  his  brow. 

"  Sit  here  and  talk  awhile ;  you  have  time  enough," 
she  said,  drawing  him  down  beside  her  upon  a  couch. 
"  For  the  last  half -hour  I  have  felt  as  if  you  would 


GOOD  AMERICANS  179 

never  come.  I  Ve  been  thinking,  Peter,  of  many, 
many  things.  And  I  7m  going  to  be  better  to  you, 
dearest.  I  'm  going  to  make  you  happier  than  I  have 
done.  When  I  remember  all  the  distraction  I  've 
brought  into  your  life— " 

"  What  is  the  cause  of  this  fit  of  introspection  ? "  he 
said,  when  they  had  sat  in  silence  for  a  little  while, 
both  her  arms  clasped  about  his  neck,  her  cheek  to  his. 

"  Oh,  Agatha,  I  suppose— and  Mrs.  Grantham— and 
my  own  conscience.  1 7m  not  strong  enough  for  you, 
Peter.  You  should  have  chosen  Agatha.  All  I  can 
do  is  to  be  sorry  when  I  Ve  been  very,  very  bad." 

"  And  have  you  now?" 

"  Pm  not  going  to  spoil  this  moment  by  resurrecting 
my  offenses,"  she  exclaimed  radiantly.  "  I  only  wish 
you  7d  give  me  some  way  of  proving  how  good  I  'm 
going  to  be." 

Davenant  went  into  his  room  to  dress,  feeling  a 
sense  of  relief  from  oppression.  For  weeks  past  he 
had  realized  that  they  were  drifting,  with  no  prospect 
of  safe  anchorage.  His  ambitions,  prospects,  ideas, 
that  immortal  part  of  him  which  had  hitherto  lent  a 
spring  to  his  step,  a  sheen  to  the  sunshine,  a  glory  to 
the  air,  had  been  under  a  spell.  His  love  for  Sybil, 
although  grown  deeper  and  broader,  seemed  yet  to 
enmesh  him  in  silken  cobwebs  as  strong  as  iron.  The 
beginning  of  the  second  half  of  his  first  married  year 
had  not  found  him  a  happy  man. 

With  the  warmth  of  her  tender  penitential  promises 
in  his  heart,  he  told  himself  that  things  would  go 
better.  They  were  young ;  he  was  strong ;  the  right 
way  would  open.  Nothing  was  irremediable,  provided 
Sybil  loved  him  and  her  hand  was  clasped  in  his. 


XI 


AY  EN  ANT,  hurrying  into  his  room 
to  dress  for  their  belated  dinner,  did 
not  at  first  perceive  upon  his  toilet- 
table  a  note  addressed  to  him  in  type 
written  characters.  The  discovery 
made  no  impression  on  a  mind  ab 
sorbed  with  renascent  hope  of  better  things  to  come. 
What  is  one  missive  more  or  less,  in  the  shower  that 
daily  falls  upon  a  modern  home  ?  When  he  was  ready 
to  go  down-stairs,  he  took  it  up  and  mechanically 
tore  it  open. 

"Nothing  is  irremediable/7  he  was  still  repeating 
to  himself,  as  he  drew  out  the  contents  of  the  en 
velop,  "  so  long  as  Sybil  is  true  to  her  higher  self  and 
me." 

A  clipping  from  a  newspaper  fluttered  down  and 
lay  upon  the  back  of  a  brush  with  a  silver  monogram 
—Sybil's  gift.  Davenant  hardly  took  in,  at  first,  the 
meaning  of  the  typed  words  upon  the  sheet  infolding 
it.  When  he  did,  the  fierce  blood  surged  into  his 
temples.  He  glanced  at  the  clipping,  and  his  face 
grew  darker  still  with  wrath.  Lies  though  they  were, 
what  he  had  read  cut  him  like  a  whip. 

Sybil,  impatient  at  his  delay,  ran  up  herself  to 
180 


GOOD  AMERICANS  181 

hasten  him  down-stairs.  As  she  came  into  the  room, 
she  stopped,  dismayed  by  the  expression  of  her  hus 
band's  face.  It  was  unlike  anything  he  had  ever 
shown  to  her  before.  When,  frightened  and  wonder 
ing,  she  tried  to  take  the  papers  from  his  hand,  he 
tore  them  to  bits  and  threw  them  into  the  fireplace. 

" Peter,  what  is  it?"  she  said  faintly,  her  heart 
beating  hard. 

"Answer  me.  Has  Lang  been  with  you  twice 
to-day  ? " 

"Of  course,  Peter.  This  morning  I  wheeled  with 
him,  and  this  afternoon  he  joined  me  in  the  street, 
and  came  in  for  tea,  as  he  has  often  done  before." 

"  I  forbid  you  to  speak  to  him  again.  1 'd  like  to 
kill  him  for  what  he  's  brought  upon  you !  " 

Sybil  stood  transfixed.  She  saw  struggling  in  him 
the  animal  man  that  made  her  want  to  turn  and  flee 
from  him.  She  waited  in  silence  awhile,  till  his  rage 
had  exhausted  itself.  Then  she  spoke  timidly : 

"  If  it  's  only  one  of  those  slandering  newspaper 
paragraphs  that  everybody  gets— 

Davenant  could  not  believe  his  ears.  "Only"— 
this  from  a  high,  pure  woman,  lifted  by  his  thoughts 
upon  a  pedestal  above  the  mud  of  humankind ! 

"  I  don't  know  about  your  sort  of  men,"  he  said 
blackly,  "  but  in  my  part  of  the  world  we  don't  brook 
insult  to  the  fair  fame  of  our  women." 

"I  have  heard  of  those  dear  Don  Quixotes  of  the 
South,"  she  said  with  a  little  curl  of  the  lip.  "  What 
a  mercy  you  don't  carry  a  six-shooter  in  your  belt,  and 
a  bowie-knife  in  your  boot !  Peter,  try  to  be  reason 
able.  Lang  can't  help  this  any  more  than  we  can.  I 


182  GOOD  AMERICANS 

don't  know  what  ?s  been  said— I  don't  want  to  know; 
but  if  you  think  your  wife  is  the  only  one—" 

"  Good  God  !  "  groaned  Davenant.  He  dropped 
into  a  chair,  clasping  his  hands  over  his  eyes.  What 
he  suffered  now  was  more  acute  than  the  pain  of  the 
slander. 

"It  must  be  owned,  dearest,  you  are  what  Etta 
calls  you— '  rococo.'  You  belong  to  the  most  delight 
fully  old-fashioned  age.  If  you  ?d  heard  all  the  things 
I  have  that  are  said  of  men  and  women  of  our  world, 
—of  almost  every  one  in  turn,— you  'd  cease  to  think 
it  such  a  mighty  matter.  So  long  as  you  know  I  'm 
all  right,  and  Lang  knows  it,  why  should  you  mind 
so  much?  How  can  I  forbid  him  the  house  without 
giving  color  to  this  nonsense  ?  All  such  stories  die 
down  in  time,  and  women  are  thought  none  the  less 
of  for  them.  Why,  look  at  Mrs.—" 

"Sybil,  Sybil,"  he  pleaded,  with  the  agony  of  one 
pushed  further  than  endurance  goes,  "if  you  ever 
loved  me,  say  no  more.  What  you  have  said  has 
burned  into  my  heart." 

"  But,  Peter,"  she  persisted,  putting  her  arm  around 
his  neck  where  he  sat,  "you  distress  me  dreadfully. 
Indeed,  indeed,  I  do  not  understand." 

"  That  is  it,  God  help  me  !  "  he  cried,  ridding  himself 
of  her  embrace,  and  getting  up  to  walk  to  and  fro — 
"  you  do  not  understand." 

Directly  after  dinner,  which  was  eaten  almost  in 
silence  between  the  married  pair,  Peter  went  out, 
telling  his  wife  that  he  meant  to  work  at  the  Bar 
Association  library,  and  would  not  be  home  till  late. 

Sybil,  going  into  her  little  drawing-room,  sat  down 


GOOD  AMERICANS  183 

before  the  fire,  feeling  truly  wretched.  As  her  lonely 
evening  dragged  itself  along,  she  was  glad  of  a  ring 
at  the  front  bell,  followed  by  the  announcement  of 
her  cousin,  Mr.  Lewiston. 

This  gentleman,  with  the  touches  of  mourning 
added  to  his  evening  clothes,  looked  more  than  ever 
pale  and  shrunken.  His  small  gray  eyes  peered  out 
of  red-edged  lids.  He  dropped  wearily  upon  a  divan, 
doubled  up  his  knee,  nursing  it  with  both  arms,  and 
complained  of  the  chill  of  a  late  spring.  After  Sybil 
had  exchanged  with  him  a  few  commonplaces  about 
his  mother's  funeral,— which  she,  with  Davenant,  had 
attended,  in  a  front  pew  of  the  church,— St.  Clair 
burst  out  jerkily : 

"I  'm  glad  you  're  alone,  Sybil.  I  wanted  to  tell 
you  by  yourself  that  I  consider  it  a  brutal  kind  of 
thing,  the  way  my  mother 's  left  you.  You  stood  lots 
at  her  hands  that  other  people  don't  know  about,  and 
to  be  chucked  overboard  like  this,  when  you  need 
money  most,  is  n't  what  I  call  nice." 

"  We  can't  say  anything,  now,  St.  Clair,"  answered 
Sybil ;  "  and  I  should  tell  you  that  my  husband  has 
not  opened  his  lips  in  comment,  one  way  or  the 
other." 

"  Then  he  's  a  devilish  sight  more  civil  than  I  >d  be 
under  the  circumstances.  It  would  have  been  all  in 
your  favor  had  you  two  agreed  to  go  to  live  in  Wash 
ington  Square  when  she  made  you  that  offer  last 
Christmas." 

"Ah,  but  what  an  offer!  We  could  n't,  in  any 
self-respect,  accept  it.  She  treated  Peter  like— oh ! 
as  I  said  before,  we  can't  talk  of  it  now." 


184  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"Well,  you  know  what  you  want,  of  course 5  and 
Davenant  's  a  plucky  sort,  certainly.  But  the  long 
and  short  of  my  visit  is  to  say  that  to-day  I  've  made 
my  will,  leaving  you  all,  and  more  than,  you  'd  have 
got  from  my  mother.  And  I  wish  you  'd  take  some 
thing  from  me  now  to  make  amends  for  it.  I  sent 
my  lawyer,  you  know,  to  offer  this  to  your  husband ; 
but  he  declined  flatly.  I  'd  be  glad  to  get  you  to 
reconsider  it." 

"  My  dear  St.  Clair,  you  have  always  stood  by  me  !  " 
exclaimed  she,  touched  by  his  kindness.  "  But— but 
—you  don't  know  Peter.  He  's  the  soul  of  indepen 
dence.  Marrying  me  against  the  wishes  of  my  aunt 
makes  him  more  touchy,  I  suppose.  At  any  rate,  I 
know  he  would  n't  hear  of  it.  When  he  told  me 
about  your  offer,  he  was  really  grateful  to  you ;  but  I 
could  see  nothing  would  have  moved  him  to  accept— 

"Then  you  're  pretty  comfortably  off,  I  take  it," 
said  St.  Clair,  with  a  feeble  grin  of  wonder  at  such 
disinterestedness  in  this  age  of  gain;  "or  else  Dave 
nant  's  a  wonder  from  Wayback." 

"  That  ?s  just  what  he  is,"  said  Sybil,  laughing,  and 
then  sighing—  "  a  wonder  from  Wayback ;  and  so 
dreadfully  set  in  his  opinions  about  right  and 
wrong." 

"My  dear  girl,  you  should  hold  on  to  your  trea 
sure,"  commented  her  cousin,  who  was  already  begin 
ning  to  weary  of  a  conversation  for  him  too  long 
sustained.  "  I  must  be  off  now  to  the  club.  I  think 
I  '11  be  sailing  in  a  few  weeks,  to  try  a  new  place  my 
doctor  's  found  for  me  in  France.  If  I  can  do  any 
thing  for  you  meantime,  you  've  only  to  call  on  me." 


GOOD  AMERICANS  185 

Sybil  saw  him  go  out  upon  tottering  legs,  her  ser 
vant  buttoning  him  up  in  a  fur-lined  overcoat  before 
putting  the  little  man  into  his  brougham. 

"How  could  I  tell  St.  Clair,"  she  asked  herself, 
sinking  again  into  her  chair,  "that  Peter  says  his 
reputation  is  such  I  must  not  receive  or  hold  commu 
nication  with  him  alone?  He  meant  well,  and  was 
really  generous ;  and  if  Peter  knows  of  this,  it  will 
only  be  for  me  to  be  lectured  up  and  down.  Peter 
expects  too  much.  He  is  unreasonable;  and,  until 
to-night,  I  had  no  idea  what  his  temper  can  be.  Sup 
posing  he  should  ever  turn  against  me  like  that !  I 
should  die." 

The  tears  coursing  down  her  cheeks  were  with 
difficulty  stanched  when  she  went  up  to  bed.  She 
thought  Franchise,  who  awaited  her,  looked  more 
self-satisfied  than  usual.  Then  it  occurred  to  Sybil 
to  inquire  about  the  note  left  upon  her  husband's 
dressing-table. 

"  Who  put  it  there  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Ma  foij  madame,"  began  the  woman,  then  poured 
out  a  rapid  and  wordy  explanation  of  how  it  was  the 
footman  who  had  brought  the  letter  in  question  up 
to  her  while  she  was  engaged  in  putting  away  mon 
sieur's  shirts.  Jean  had  been  asked  at  the  door,  by 
the  messenger  who  bore  it,  to  see  that  it  reached 
monsieur  as  soon  as  he  came  in.  Franchise  had  no 
idea  the  note  was— 

"You  are  not  asked  to  give  me  your  ideas,"  said 
Sybil,  freezingly.  "You  can  go  now;  I  have  done 
with  you." 

And  Franchise,  flouncing   down  to  the  servants' 


186  GOOD  AMERICANS 

hall,  discussed  with  her  mates,  in  gleeful  enjoyment, 
every  detail  of  the  promising  imbroglio  up-stairs, 
together  with  many  other  matters  connected  with 
their  employers  handed  along  by  the  servants  of 
other  houses  where  free  discussion  of  personalities 
goes  on  at  table. 

"  That  woman  has  a  hateful  face/'  said  the  young 
wife,  wearily.  "  But  Etta  says  they  are  all  like  that, 
and  the  only  thing  is  to  get  what  one  can  out  of 
them,  and  pay  them  well." 

With  these  and  other  graver  thoughts  to  vex  her, 
Sybil  fell  asleep. 

The  difference  between  Peter  and  herself  was  not 
cleared  at  breakfast-time  next  day.  When  she  saw 
that  he  was  in  an  unapproachable  mood,  she  took 
fright,  and,  keeping  to  her  room,  ordered  a  cup  of 
tea  to  be  brought  to  her  there.  Peter,  hastening  off 
directly  afterward,  had  only  a  word,  and  that  a 
formal  one,  with  her. 

But  if  he  cared  not  to  speak,  Davenant  could  act, 
and  did  so.  Part  of  his  work  during  the  days  ensu 
ing,  at  the  expense  of  office  affairs  of  moment,  was  to 
trace  to  its  fountainhead  the  paragraph  New  York 
had  been  enjoying  for  a  week  before  he  saw  it.  He 
was  not  one  to  sit  with  folded  hands,  and  say,  "  This 
should  not  be,  but  what  can  we  avail  ? "  Step  by  step 
he  followed  the  lie  back  to  its  originator.  The  money 
this  cost  him,  by  the  way,  he  considered  well  spent. 
His  suspicion  that  to  Miss  Hilton  they  owed  their 
deadly  stab  in  the  dark  proved  perfectly  correct.  And 
Miss  Hilton,  her  secret  sold  by  her  employer,  received 
from  her  victim  a  rebuke  and  a  warning  that  caused 


GOOD  AMERICANS  187 

her  coward  soul  to  tremble.  Davenant  smiled  grimly 
when  he  left  her.  There  was  no  mercy  in  his  heart 
for  her  species  of  offender,  and  he  made  it  plain. 
ClaribePs  only  consolation,  in  her  crushed  and  alarmed 
condition,  was  that  the  venom  of  this  particular  shaft 
could  not  be  recalled;  and  she  felt  quite  sure  that 
Davenant  would  never  let  any  one  know  of  his  awful 
visit  to  her. 

Simultaneously  with  his  bloodless  victory  over  a 
foe  most  dangerous,  Davenant  received  an  overture 
to  enter  into  a  matter  of  professional  business  that 
opened  to  him  a  vista  of  excellent  promise.  It  was 
of  a  nature  that  he,  of  all  men,  could  deal  with  best, 
owing  to  previous  connection  with  one  of  the  princi 
pals  engaging  him.  The  success  of  it  would  mean 
fame,  and  substantial  reward  in  fortune.  The  oppor 
tunity  to  recoup  himself  for  the  bad  months  past  had 
thus  come  as  if  with  a  trumpet-blare  of  triumph.  But 
in  order  to  succeed,  he  must  bring  to  the  essay  his 
best  powers  of  brain  and  energy ;  he  must  work  un- 
flaggingly,  turning  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left, 
nor  pausing  by  the  way.  This,  a  year  before,  would 
have  been  a  light  matter  to  consider.  Now  he  gravely 
turned  in  his  mind  how  he  could  detach  himself  from 
Sybil's  life  in  order  to  push  his  affair  through.  If 
he  could  only  convince  her  of  the  interests  involved 
—of  the  vital  importance,  to  them  both,  of  his  work 
ing  by  himself ! 

Davenant,  who  was  going  through  what  many  an 
other  young  man  of  ambition  has  had  to  meet,  felt 
himself  a  brute  to  think  of  Sybil  as  an  interruption 
to  his  career.  But  the  time  had  come  when  she  must 


188  GOOD  AMERICANS 

give  way,  or  lie  go  under.  He  was  keenly  and  bit 
terly  alive  to  the  fall  backward  in  his  climb  of  the 
mountain  of  professional  success.  To  make  good  lost 
progress,  to  scale  the  heights  again,  and  go  still 
higher,  was  now  his  healthy  and  absorbing  wish. 

These  few  days  of  coolness  between  Sybil  and  him 
self  had  proved  intolerable  to  both.  He  knew  that 
his  own  inability  to  pass  at  once  out  of  the  grief  and 
shame  the  Hilton  incident  had  caused  him  was  greatly 
to  blame  for  this.  Sybil,  rebounding  like  a  child 
after  a  fall,  had  been  ready  and  eager  to  make  friends 
with  him. 

When  the  day  came  that,  having  cleared  all  impedi 
menta  from  his  way,  Davenant  set  to  work  in  hard 
earnest  in  his  great  enterprise,  he  went  home  lighter 
of  heart  and  step  than  he  had  been  in  weeks.  He 
found  Sybil  the  better  for  a  walk  with  Agatha  Carni- 
f ex.  It  was  an  auspicious  moment  in  which  to  unfold 
his  plan  of  intended  preoccupation  and  absorption 
for  some  time  to  come.  Sybil,  loving  and  sensible, 
would  recognize  the  necessity.  He  felt  sure  that  she 
would  now  prove  herself  the  helpmate  as  well  as  the 
adored  and  cherished  wife. 

"Oh,"  sighed  Sybil,  when,  after  pouring  out  his 
heart  to  her  in  glowing  eloquence,  her  husband  paused, 
gazing  with  almost  feverish  anxiety  into  her  lovely 
eyes,  "  while  you  were  talking  I  felt  like  somebody  at 
the  bottom  of  a  cliff.  I  can't  climb  it,  Peter ;  indeed 
I  can't.  But  you  sounded  grand  and  inspiring,  and 
you  make  me  see  what  a  wretch  I  'd  be  if  I  did  n't 
help  you.  You  know,  dearest,  that  this  is  the  "best 
time  for  you  to  work.  We  are  going  nowhere  j  people 


GOOD  AMERICANS  189 

are  forgetting  us.  Besides,  there  is  really  nothing  to 
do  in  New  York  after  the  1st  of  May." 

"  I  have  not  yet  discovered  that  fact,"  said  he,  with 
a  brightening  face. 

"  Of  course  you  must  work,  and  I  '11  mope  and  try 
to  make  the  best  of  it.  If  there  were  any  peace  in 
our  household,  I  could  do  better  j  but  to-day  there  's 
been  another  cataclysm.  That  horrid  Franchise,  that 
you  made  me  send  away,  has  left  a  trail  of  mischief 
after  her." 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  don't  mention  down-stairs !  " 
interposed  he. 

"I  don't  mean  to.  All  we  can  do  is  to  live  over 
the  powder-magazine,  and  thank  our  stars  when  it 
does  n't  explode.  But  I  '11  try,  dearest  j  I  '11  try  to  be 
happy  without  you— 

"  Every  evening  for  a  while  ? "  asked  he. 

"  Oh,  dear,  it  is  dreadful !  But  if  I  must,  I  must. 
And,  Peter  darling,  what 's  more,  I  '11  promise  not  to 
mention  summer  plans  till  you  give  me  leave." 

FINDING  it  a  convenience  to  work  away  from  home, 
Davenant  now  adopted  the  habit  of  leaving  her  as 
soon  as  their  dinner  was  over,  and  not  returning  till 
she  had  long  been  asleep.  For  a  week  Sybil  struggled 
valiantly  against  the  depression  of  this  mode  of  exis 
tence.  She  read,  practised  her  music,  regulated  her 
household  accounts,  and  tried  to  fulfil  the  whole  duty 
of  a  home-keeping  American  wife. 

But  the  hours  were  long,  and  against  them  warred 
all  the  previous  years  of  her  pleasure-seeking  foreign 
life.  At  the  end  of  the  first  week  she  put  up  a  faint 


190  GOOD  AMERICANS 

plea  that  Davenant  would  stay  with  her  for  that 
Saturday  evening,  at  least. 

"  My  poor  brave  darling,  I  wish  I  could,"  he  said, 
kissing  her  tenderly.  "  If  you  knew,  Sybil,  how  I  am 
going  ahead  in  seven-league  boots,  you  'd  pardon  me. 
My  brain  was  never  clearer  5  my  powers  of  work  seem 
inexhaustible.  And  it  is  you— you  who  are  at  the 
bottom  of  it.  Without  you  I  'd  be  dead-wood.  Oh, 
my  Sybil,  this  life  of  yours  and  mine  is  a  common 
place  partnership  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  but  to  us 
it 's  a  kingdom.  Let  us  control  it  royally.  Help  me, 
as  only  you  can  help  me,  to  hold  my  throne." 

He  was  gone,  and  the  little  house  was  doubly  still 
for  the  loss  of  that  buoyant,  manly  presence.  Sybil, 
who  nowadays  cried  often,  bowed  her  head  down  upon 
her  hands,  and  wondered  if  this  was  what  she  had 
married  for.  Peter's  great  speeches,  as  she  called 
them,  pleased  her  ear  j  but  to  them  she  could  not  open 
the  innermost  door  of  her  understanding.  She  thought 
them  picturesque,  high-flown,  and  bore  with  them  for 
the  sake  of  her  love  for  him,  which  had  been  steadily 
growing  since  their  marriage.  But  she  wished  her 
husband  were  more  pliant,  more  inclined  to  take  tri 
fling  enjoyments,  more  like  husbands  she  had  been 
most  accustomed  to  see,  who  shared  with  their  wives 
in  the  commerce  of  social  small  talk. 

She  went  to  the  window,  and  looked  out.  An  elec 
tric  light  opposite  showed  the  deserted  street.  The 
houses  all  about  were  dull,  uniform,  respectable.  The 
few  passers-by  were  faded  working-people.  Every 
thing  seemed  commonplace,  uninteresting.  She  en 
vied  her  servants  down-stairs,  who,  to  the  twang  of 


GOOD  AMERICANS  191 

the  footman's  mandolin,  were  apparently  capering  or 
playing  hide-and-seek— such  a  merry  racket  they  made. 

At  this  moment  a  carriage  drove  up  to  her  door, 
disgorging  a  party  consisting  of  a  lady  and  two  men 
in  evening  dress.  Sybil,  retiring  behind  her  window- 
curtains,  recognized  her  old-time  chum,  Mrs.  Stanley, 
attended  by  a  new  Venezuelan  attache  from  Wash 
ington  and  by  Mr.  Willy  Lang.  Before  she  could 
form  any  plans  for  defense,  they  were  in  upon  her. 
Etta,  who  liked  to  indulge  in  nights  of  this  descrip 
tion,  had  conceived,  after  dinner,  the  idea  of  going  to 
a  certain  music-hall,  "  just  for  a  minute,  to  see  Amina, 
the  woman  who  's  dancing  there  now,"  she  urged. 
"  Jack  said  he  'd  come,  but  at  the  last  minute  backed 
out,  because  it 's  a  bore,  and  Amina's  ankles  are  too 
thick.  Do  come  with  us,  Sybil;  I  depend  on  you. 
As  to  your  mourning  being  an  excuse,  that  's  quite 
too  ridiculous.  Nobody  in  your  position  would  think 
of  keeping  in  after  a  month.  It  will  cheer  you  up  to 
be  with  us.  You  must,  now;  I  '11  take  no  refusal. 
Davenant  can't  complain,  if  he  leaves  you  here  mop 
ing  like  this;  now,  can  he,  Lang?  Do  you  help  me 
to  coax  this  hold-back  Sybil  not  to  spoil  our  little 
1  spree.' " 

Sybil  blushed  vividly. 

"  I  need  no  one  to  coax  me,  except  you,"  she  said  to 
Etta,  while  Lang  looked  imperturbable. 

"  Then  come,  come  !  Ring  for  your  maid,  and  get 
a  little  hat.  That  plain  gray  crepon  is  just  ideal; 
you  '11  look  like  a  nun  who  has  determined  to  cheer 
up  a  bit.  If  we  are  bored,  as  Jack  says  I  will  be, 
there  '11  be  nothing  but  to  come  out  again." 


192  GOOD  AMERICANS 

Sybil,  wishing  to  say  that  her  husband  contemned 
the  practice  of  women  of  good  society  attending 
music-halls,  could  not  maintain  this,  or  anything 
serious,  in  the  face  of  Etta  in  her  present  mood. 

DAVENANT,  having  worked  until  turned  out  of  his 
Lawyers7  Snug  Harbor  by  extinction  of  the  lights, 
started  to  walk  home  in  a  very  happy  and  elated 
frame  of  mind.  Not  only  was  his  brain  singing  a 
paean  over  its  congenial  labors  of  the  evening,  but 
his  heart  reverted  to  the  image  of  Sybil  as  he  had  left 
her— beautiful,  graceful,  wistful  at  his  going. 

"She  can't  know— I  can't  expect  her  to  know- 
how  she  fills  my  being,  or  that  would  be  enough  for 
her,  I  think,"  he  meditated,  striding  away  with  firm 
footsteps  to  his  home. 

At  a  corner,  coming  out  of  a  club,  he  ran  upon 
Mr.  Cleve. 

"  Hallo,  Davenant !  Glad  to  see  you.  Let 's  keep 
together  till  I  get  to  my  street.  I  thought  you  must 
be  at  the  library  when  I  saw  your  pretty  wife,  an 
hour  ago,  at  that  raree-show  of  Amina's,  along  with 
Mrs.  Stanley  and  Willy  Lang." 

"I  can't  imagine  what  you  mean,"  said  Davenant. 
"  My  wife  is  at  home  this  evening." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  old  Cleve,  discreetly.  "Then  I 
must  have  mistaken  some  one  else  in  the  box  for  her." 

He  would  rather  have  bitten  his  tongue  out  than 
have  made  such  an  old-fogy  blunder.  The  common 
belief  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Davenant  were  more  blindly 
in  love  with  each  other  than  before,  since  that  attempt 
to  start  a  scandal  about  Lang  and  Sybil,  had  possessed 


GOOD  AMERICANS  193 

his  mind.  He  tried  to  think  of  a  good  story  with 
which  to  cover  his  stupid  break.  But  the  certainty 
of  having  seen  Sybil  under  the  circumstances  described 
annoyed  him.  For  once  Mr.  Cleve  had  not  a  joke 
upon  his  tongue. 

When  they  parted,  Davenant  hurried  on,  but  not 
so  cheerfully.  Despite  himself,  he  was  depressed  by 
the  image  Cleve  had  conjured  up.  A  light  burning 
in  Sybil's  room  showed  that  she  was  still  awake.  He 
found  her  in  her  tea-gown,  flushed  and  appealing, 
running  to  meet  him  at  the  top  of  the  stairs. 

"My  dearest  Peter/'  she  cried,  " since  you  left, 
guess  what  has  happened  to  me !  I  have  sown  my 
first  wild  oats.  I  have  been  with  Etta  to  see  Amina ! 
It  was  tiresome,  and  she  did  n't  amuse  me  in  the  very 
least.  And  the  tobacco-smoke  got  into  my  hair  so 
that  I  Ve  been  all  this  time  brushing  it  out.  Be 
sure  I  shall  never  want  to  go  again." 

"Etta?"  said  he,  coldly.  "This  was  not  a  plan 
prearranged,  then?" 

"Of  course  not.  I  had  n't  dreamed  of  it  when 
she  came,  and  I  did  n't  want  to  go.  But  you  know 
Etta.  When  she  has  set  her  mind  to  anything,  she 
will  never  give  it  up.  Don't  be  afraid,  Peter;  your 
wife  has  no  taste  for  wild  oats." 

"And,  besides  Etta,  who  was  of  the  party?" 

His  persistently  cold  tone,  chilling  her  impulse  of  full 
confidence,  and  the  line  between  his  brows,  bringing 
back  the  day  of  his  fury  against  Lang,  suddenly  overbore 
her.  Her  eyes  fell  ;  her  face  grew  pallid ;  she  looked 
like  a  woman  conscious  of  concealing  wrong-doing. 

"  Sybil,  answer  me !  "  he  said. 

13 


194  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"  If  you  mean  Lang,  he  was  of  the  party.  It  was 
not  my  fault  -}  but  your  speaking  to  me  like  this  only 
makes  me  not  care  whether  it  was  or  not !  "  she  cried 
rebelliously. 

Davenant  saw  that  she  spoke  truth;  but,  having 
worked  himself  up  to  this  pinnacle,  poor  human 
nature  would  not  allow  him  to  come  down  from  it. 
She,  on  her  side,  felt  a  hard,  stubborn  lump  in  the 
place  of  her  usual  loving,  melting  heart.  They  parted 
for  the  night  under  a  cloud  that  seemed  to  both  of 
them  to  shut  out  heaven  and  earth. 

After  a  day  or  two  of  this  miserable  difference,  the 
couple  came  together  again  in  a  burst  of  common 
self-reproach.  Davenant  determined  to  use  the 
strength  of  his  manhood  to  prevent  a  recurrence  of 
the  scene ;  and  Sybil,  who  had  not  had  his  distraction 
of  hard  work  and  contact  with  the  outer  world,  felt 
that  if  it  did  happen  again  she  should  give  up  all 
pretense  of  considering  herself  a  happy  wife.  In  this 
state  of  mind,  she  avoided  his  friends,  whom  she 
could  not  bear  to  have  suspect  what  was  passing  in 
her  life.  While  Davenant's  work  forged  ahead  with 
a  steady  progress,  and  he  was  engrossed  with  prepa 
rations  for  a  day  to  come  in  court,  Sybil  went  one 
afternoon  to  see  Mrs.  Stanley. 

Etta,  for  Etta,  was  almost  gay.  She  was  making 
up  a  little  party  to  go  to  a  "  tiny  island "  Jack  had 
been  induced  to  buy  in  the  Bay  of  Chesapeake,  where 
he  could  go  in  season  for  duck-shooting,  and  whereon 
there  was  an  ancient  house  he  had  just  had  over 
hauled  and  made  fit  to  live  in.  (It  is  a  fact  of  latter- 
day  notoriety  that  when  ladies  of  the  Etta  group 


GOOD  AMERICANS  195 

have  exhausted  their  possibilities  of  continents,  they 
desire  to  appropriate  islands.)  Etta  had  just  been 
on  the  point  of  writing  to  Sybil  to  come  up  and  talk 
it  over.  Of  course  Sybil  and  Peter  would  go,  or 
rather  would  come  on  to  join  her  there.  Etta  and 
Jack  were  setting  off  soon,  with  some  servants,  and 
when  they  should  have  opened  and  aired  the  house 
would  expect  their  guests.  Mrs.  Arden  and  her 
daughters,  and  quite  a  pleasant  little  "gang"  (so 
Etta  called  them),  were  coming  to  "  camp  out." 

Sybil's  heart  gave  a  jump  of  pleasure  at  the  idea  of 
this  glimpse  of  easy,  cheerful  outdoor  life.  She  was 
familiar  with  Etta's  habit  of  "camping  out,"  if  only 
for  a  fortnight— with  all  the  luxuries  of  life  about 
her.  As  Mr.  Carnifex  had  said,  the  Stanleys  knew 
how  to  do  things  thoroughly.  She  promised  Etta  to 
let  her  know  at  once,  and  with  a  buoyant  feeling 
awaited  the  return  of  Peter,  that  she  might  win  his 
assent  to  the  invitation. 

"My  dear  Sybil,"  her  husband  said,  when  her 
scheme  was  glowingly  unfolded,  "  how  can  you  think 
of  it?  I  could  no  more  go  away  from  town  now 
than  I  could  change  that  rug  into  a  flying-carpet  to 
save  our  traveling  expenses." 

"  But  we  have  not  once  been  out  of  town  since  we 
landed.  I  have  never  stopped  so  long  in  town  on  a 
stretch." 

There  was,  could  she  have  seen  it,  a  noble  look  in 
her  husband's  eyes— a  patient,  brave,  and  far-seeing 
look.  He  spoke  gently : 

"  Do  you  remember  my  telling  you,  once,  that  New 
York  is  my  life?" 


196  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"I  know;  but  every  one  's  the  better  for  a  change 
at  this  time  of  the  year.  You  can  work  all  the  harder 
when  you  come  back.  A  week— what  's  a  week, 
Peter  ?  And  we  '11  be  so  happy  in  the  country.  This 
house  stifles  me ;  it  is  so  little,  and  has  so  many  hang 
ings.  And  the  street  is  so  ugly  outside.  One  can't 
walk  forever ;  and  I  've  no  way  to  drive,  we  are  so  poor." 

Davenant  saw  her  lip  tremble.  He  felt  like  a 
parent  refusing  something  to  a  beloved  child. 

"Courage,  my  darling!  We  sha'n't  always  be 
poor.  At  the  present  outlook,  I  '11  soon  have  a  purse- 
ful  to  give  us  a  summer  outing,  pay  all  these  bills 
that  have  piled  up,  and  leave  enough  over  to  start 
next  winter  with.  But  put  out  of  mind  the  idea  that 
I  can  get  away  now,  anywhere.  Once  and  for  all,  it 
is  out  of  the  question." 

Sybil  said  nothing.  Between  them  the  air  was 
pulsing  with  thoughts  each  sent  out  to  the  other. 
Davenant's  heart  yearned  over  her.  Her  heart  re 
proached  him  for  making  difficulties  and  conjuring 
up  scruples.  Since  that  wretched  Lang  affair,  Peter 
had  never  been  quite  the  same  to  her,  she  felt. 

Presently  she  began  again : 

"  I  really  think,  Peter,  I  had  better  go  to  Etta,  even 
if  you  can't." 

Here  Sybil  felt  reasonably  secure.  The  army  of 
traveling  wives  abroad,  whose  husbands  are  invisible, 
had  long  familiarized  her  with  American  complai 
sance  in  this  direction.  Whenever  Etta  felt  like  it, 
she  took  a  maid  and  went— anywhere.  Sybil,  with 
her  maid,  could  easily  make  the  day's  journey  re 
quired  to  reach  Etta's  island. 


GOOD  AMERICANS  197 

"  Do  you  want  so  much  to  go  ? "  said  her  husband, 
tightening  his  lips  in  a  way  she  did  not  like.  "  Sybil, 
I  do  not  wish  to  seem  ungenerous,  and  therefore  I 
must  tell  you  the  full  truth.  After  paying  the  last 
month's  bills  this  morning,  and  settling  one  or  two 
big  outstanding  ones,  I  am  quite  empty-handed. 
Your  little  funds  have  gone  into  your  own  clothes 
and  spending-money.  The  servants'  wages  alone 
mount  up  tremendously.  I  was  just  making  up  my 
mind  to  ask  you  to  dismiss  the  second  man  when  you 
spoke  to  me  to-night.  I  think  we  have  got  too  ex 
pensive  a  cook;  and  if  we— you— only  knew  enough 
to  make  a  clean  sweep  of  these  nuisances,  and  begin 
fresh  with  a  cheaper  lot— 

"Do  you  know  what  cheap  servants  are,  Peter?" 
cried  she,  woefully. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  'm  afraid  I  only  care  about  living 
honestly,  within  our  means." 

"  It  is  awful— this  drop,"  she  said,  sobbing.  "  I  see 
now  what  I  've  brought  upon  you.  Everybody  told 
me  I  was  making  a  mistake." 

Peter  was  deeply  wounded.  He  could  find  no 
words  to  answer  her. 

"  Then  it  is  because  you  have  absolutely  no  money 
I  may  n't  go  away  to  Etta  f "  she  asked. 

"  That  chiefly,  if  you  will,"  he  said  curtly,  leaving 
her  to  another— and  the  worst— of  her  lonely  evenings. 

During  this  time  of  solitude  Sybil's  mind  swung 
like  a  pendulum  between  good  and  evil.  She  loved 
Peter  dearly,  but  thought  him  unreasonably  hard  and 
cold.  She  wished  to  stay  with  him,  then  reflected 
how  little  he  kept  by  her  nowadays. 


198  GOOD  AMERICANS 

She  felt  ready  to  bear  anything  for  him,  then 
quailed  before  the  prospect  of  the  meager  arrange 
ments  he  proposed.  If  she  had  only  had  money,  all 
would  have  gone  well.  If  she  had  only  money  now,  all 
would  go  better,  and,  with  money  in  pocket,  she  could 
treat  herself  to  this  jaunt  about  which  Peter  was  so 
indifferent.  At  this  point  she  thought  of  her  cousin 
St.  Clair,  and  his  offers  of  help  to  her. 


XII 


|YBIL  knew,  by  experience  of  her 
cousin's  indolent  habits,  that  she 
could  not  expect  to  find  him  up  and 
dressed  and  consuming  his  apology 
for  a  breakfast  before  twelve  o'clock. 
Taking  a  hansom  on  the  morning 
after  her  stormy  talk  with  Peter,  she  drove  to  the 
house  where  St.  Clair  had  his  luxurious  flat.  The 
porter  who  directed  her  to  the  right  floor,  and  the 
"buttons"  who  propelled  her  in  the  elevator,  looked 
rather  impudently  at  her,  Sybil  thought.  But  she 
was  so  full  of  her  own  intentions  in  the  visit,  so 
timorous  about  carrying  them  out,  and  so  accustomed 
to  think  of  St.  Clair  as  she  had  best  known  him,  a 
whimpering,  helpless  invalid  in  his  mother's  house, 
sharing  her  care  with  that  of  his  two  trained  nurses, 
that  she  did  not  stop  to  consider  appearances.  Her 
cousin's  own  man,  who  knew  her  well,  greeted  her 
respectfully  as  he  opened  the  door  and  invited  her 
within.  She  found  St.  Clair,  shriveled  up  in  the 
depths  of  a  chair  that  might  have  been  a  cardinal's 
for  size  and  splendor,  sipping  a  cup  of  malted  milk. 
"  Good  Lord,  it  's  horrible ! "  he  exclaimed  queru 
lously,  as  she  commented  on  his  poor  breakfast.  "  To 

199 


200  GOOD  AMERICANS 

live  on  wash  like  this,  and  my  dinners  weighed  out 
for  me  in  scales  by  that  fellow  of  mine,  who,  on  sixty 
dollars  a  month,  has  the  digestion  of  an  ostrich! 
What  can  I  do  for  you?  This  is  the  first  time  you 
have  honored  me  with  a  visit,  and  I  hope  it 's  to  say 
your  husband  thinks  better  of  letting  me  settle  some 
thing  on  you  out  of  my  mother's  estate." 

"No,  no,"  said  she.  "Peter  is  like  a  rock.  I  have 
found  that  out.  He  will  never  give  up  a  point." 

St.  Glair  was  struck  by  a  jangled  note  in  her  ordi 
narily  soft  and  even  tones. 

" It  's  come  to  you,  then,  has  it?"  he  asked,  looking 
at  her  curiously.  "  It  's  rather  soon,  but  it  comes  to 
all  of  'em." 

"What  do  you  mean,  St.  Clair?"  said  his  cousin, 
whose  eye  had  been  attracted  by  the  sumptuous  tap 
estries  forming  the  portieres  of  his  rooms. 

"WTiat  those  French  fellows  that  write  the  only 
novels  I  can  read  call  disillusion.  Hang  it  all,  Sybil, 
I  'm  sorry.  1 'm  not  often  sorry,  but  I  am  now." 

"You  mistake.  I  love  my  husband  better  than  I 
did  at  first,"  she  replied,  the  blood  crimsoning  her 
face  and  neck.  "  But—" 

"But,  but— there  are  always  buts,"  said  the  little 
man.  "  Do  you  wonder  I  never  put  my  head  in  the 
noose?  Look  here,  Sybil.  I  wish  you  'd  occupy 
that  old  barn  of  my  mother's  in  Washington  Square 
for  me.  It 's  an  elephant  on  my  hands.  I  can't  rent 
it,  and  wild  horses  would  n't  make  me  go  there  to 
live." 

"  What  do  you  take  us  for,  St.  Clair  ?  I  know  very 
little  about  living,  but  I  know  we  could  n't  afford 


GOOD  AMERICANS  201 

that.  And  it  would  be  dreadful  to  push  myself  into 
a  place  that  Aunt  Lewiston  shut  me  out  of  when  she 
was  alive.  But  it  's  about  your  helping  me  in  another 
way  I  came  here.  I  should  be  deeply  obliged  to  you 
to— to  lend  me  a  little  money  that  I  can  pay  you  when 
I  get  my  next  dividend." 

St.  Clair,  who  thought  he  knew  something  about 
loans  of  money  to  ladies  expecting  dividends,  smiled. 
Getting  up  to  walk  over  to  his  writing-table,  he  took 
a  check-book  from  a  drawer. 

"  Here  you  are.  What  amount,  now  ?  A  thousand 
—five  hundred?  You  have  only  to  say  the  word. 
We  11  agree  that  Davenant  shall  never  know." 

"One  hundred  would  be  all-sufficient,"  said  poor 
Sybil,  feeling  a  wave  of  shame  run  over  her.  When 
St.  Clair  proposed  that  she  should  keep  this  from  her 
husband,  it  was  the  first  time  she  had  really  felt  a 
sense  of  impropriety. 

"Oh,  I  understand.  A  pretty  woman  must  have 
grist  for  her  mill— or  milliner,"  said  her  cousin,  essay 
ing,  while  in  process  of  filling  in  the  check,  a  consol 
ing  jocularity.  "Only,  this  will  soon  be  gone,  my 
lady,  and  I  want  to  give  you  a  word  of  advice.  I  'm 
not  one  to  preach,  you  11  think,  and  God  knows  it 's 
so.  But  you  've  been  kind  and  sweet  to  me,  and 
you  're  a  good  little  girl,  too.  Don't  get  into  money 
scrapes  that  you  can't  tell  your  husband.  Like  to  see 
that  couple  of  new  Monets  of  mine?  Delirium  Tre 
mendous,  my  doctor  calls  'em.  You  must  go,  eh? 
Remember  me  to  Davenant.  He  's  a  man,  Davenant 
is.  Thought  all  the  better  of  him  for  holding  out 
against  living  in  my  mother's  house  when  she  offered 


202  GOOD  AMERICANS 

it.  Wish  you  'd  take  it  now,  though.  Pay  me  rent, 
if  you  please— anything,  so  you  rid  me  of  the  care  of 
it.  Perhaps  by  next  winter  you  '11  repent.  Good-by. 
The  door,  Clements;  and  shut  it  quickly,  so  that  I 
may  not  feel  the  draft." 

Sybil,  thrusting  her  check  into  a  side-pocket  of  her 
jacket,  went  away  feeling  crestfallen.  It  was  her 
first  essay  as  a  borrower.  She  had  never  known 
money's  value,  having  never  wanted  money's  worth. 
Somehow,  with  all  his  liberality,  she  felt  that  St. 
Clair  did  not  think  quite  as  well  of  her  as  before  she 
had  made  this  demand  on  him. 

But,  having  begun,  there  was  no  drawing  back. 
Telling  the  cabman  to  drive  her  to  Mrs.  Stanley's, 
she  stopped  to  lunch  with  Etta,  drove  in  the  park 
with  her,  and  returned  home  at  dinner-time,  pledged 
to  repair  to  her  island  on  a  certain  day  of  the  fol 
lowing  week.  A  pinch  of  conscience  impelling  her 
to  take  some  one  into  confidence  regarding  her  rash 
act  of  the  morning,  Sybil  had  said  to  Etta,  just  before 
they  parted : 

"  Do  tell  me,  dear.  If  one  were  in  rather  a  tight 
place  for  want  of  cash—" 

" Heavens !  is  n't  everybody?"  laughed  her  friend. 

"  — do  you  think  there  would  be  any  harm  in  one's 
—in  my  letting  St.  Clair  Lewiston  lend  me  a  little 
money  ?  " 

"Harm!"  replied  Etta.  "Why,  it  ought  to  be 
squeezed  out  of  him  for  you,  poor  shorn  lamb ! " 

"Oh,  but  he  's  offered— no  end  of  things/'  cried 
Sybil ;  "  and  Peter  will  take  nothing." 

"  Then  Peter  gives  the  supreme  evidence  that  he  is 


GOOD  AMERICANS  203 

not  long  for  this  world.  The  idea— in  your  circum 
stances  !  Why,  my  child,  you  must  be  poverty- 
stricken  !  Of  course  1 'd  let  St.  Clair  lend  me  money. 
Women's  finances  have  to  be  'helped  out'  now  and 
then.  I  wish  you  7d  heard  Lady  Bell's  account  of  the 
way  some  of  her  friends  are  floated— 

Sybil's  color  rose.  She  did  not  fancy  this  illustra 
tion.  Etta  had  never  seemed  to  her  so  repellent. 
But  she  went  home,  as  has  been  said,  engaged  to  do 
the  thing  she  dared  not  mention  to  Peter  until  the 
time  should  come. 

As  Davenant  was  leaving  her  for  his  usual  evening 
of  work  on  the  eve  of  the  day  she  had  fixed  for  her 
little  journey,  an  impulse  of  remorse  prompted  her  to 
run  into  the  hall,  and,  seizing  one  button  of  his  coat 
after  a  fashion  of  her  own,  arrest  his  progress. 

"  Peter,  tell  me,  are  you  going  to  be  busy  like  this 
long?" 

"  I  hope  two  or  three  days  will  see  me  through  the 
woods/'  he  said,  but  without  any  of  the  expressions 
of  tenderness  she  had  looked  upon  as  daily  bread. 
"  My  dear  Sybil,  what  you  have  to  bear  is  the  lot  of 
most  American  wives  of  your  class  who  have  working 
husbands.  Do  not  persuade  yourself  that  you  are 
the  only  martyr.  In  a  few  words,  to  live  as  we 
must  live,  I  must  work  as  I  am  working.  Good 
night.  Keep  up  your  spirits.  Soon  we  shall  have 
our  evenings  together  as  before." 

But  he  thought  of  her  often  during  the  evening, 
and  on  his  way  home,  earlier  than  usual,  when  he 
passed  the  Carnifexes'  house  and  saw  it  still  lighted, 


204  GOOD  AMERICANS 

conceived  the  idea  of  going  in  to  bespeak  Agatha's 
good  graces  for  his  wife. 

Mr.  Carnifex  was  out  at  a  club  dinner,  the  servant 
said.  Miss  Carnifex  was  in  the  library,  reading.  If 
Mr.  Davenant  would  walk  in,  Miss  Carnifex  would 
no  doubt  see  him,  added  the  man,  aware  of  the  family 
estimate  of  this  visitor. 

Agatha,  coming  down-stairs  at  once,  looked  sur 
prised,  but  pleased,  by  his  late  call.  Davenant  had 
never  been  more  struck  by  the  serenity  of  her  brow, 
the  charm  of  her  friendly  smile.  It  gave  him  courage 
to  plunge,  with  a  lack  of  his  usual  reticence  he  could 
not  understand,  into  a  statement  of  Sybil's  case. 

"I  see  exactly,"  she  replied  in  comment;  "and,  if 
you  will  pardon  me,  I  have  been  fearing  something 
of  this  kind.  If  the  poor  girl  could  only  look  out 
and  above  the  present,  to  what  you  are  achieving  for 
her— what  she  will  one  day  exult  in— 

Davenant  sighed. 

"  I  am  beginning  to  think  that  may  never  be,"  he 
said.  "  I  expected  too  much.  I  understood  too  little 
of  woman's  nature.  I  suppose  my  imagination  tried  to 
fit  the  old-fashioned  wife  into  the  new  woman's  place." 

"You  are  right,"  she  said  with  a  flash  of  the  eye. 
"  "Women  in  these  days,  although  they  may  not  want 
to  vote,  want  something  to  satisfy  the  celestial  part 
of  them ;  and  if  they  are  not  trained  to  subsist  upon 
their  own  intellects  must  find  relief  somewhere.  But 
Sybil  is  too  genuine  and  charming  a  creature  not 
to  be,  in  the  end,  all  a  husband  could  aspire  to  possess 
in  his  domestic  deity.  Do  you  know,  I  feel  guilty  at 
saying  this  to  a  man  about  his  wife?  And  I  had 


GOOD  AMERICANS  205 

rather  say  no  more.  I  shall  make  it  my  business, 
though,  to  seek  her  companionship  of  tener,  to  let  her 
know  the  real  friendship  she  has  made  me  feel  for 
her." 

"  You  are  a  friend  in  a  thousand ! "  he  exclaimed 
impulsively.  "I  wonder  if  you  7d  mind  my  saying 
that  every  conversation  I  have  had  with  you  has 
given  impetus  to  the  best  ambitions  of  my  life  ? " 

Agatha  leaned  over  to  draw  a  lamp-screen  between 
her  face  and  the  light  that  fell  upon  it.  In  a  jar  of 
deep-red  Chinese  porcelain  behind  her  had  been 
placed  some  boughs  of  dogwood  just  brought  in  from 
the  country.  About  the  room  were  scattered  spring 
blossoms  of  various  kinds,  gathered  from  woods  and 
lawns,  and  sending  forth  a  fragrance  like  healthy 
hope  renewed.  The  sanctuary  of  Agatha's  presence, 
surrounded  and  adorned  by  these  emblems,  breathed 
upon  Davenant  a  waft  of  peace  and  rest.  He  con 
tinued  to  talk  to  her  for  a  while— of  himself  and  his 
aspirations  chiefly,  to  which  point  she  always  led  the 
way.  He  was  flattered  to  see  that  she  was  acquainted 
with  his  new  prospects,  had  heard  the  plaudits  of  his 
friends  and  followers  concerning  them.  From  this 
they  went  on  to  unfold  common  ideas  upon  political 
subjects  and  the  future  of  the  country;  and  at  last 
he  took  his  leave,  remembering  the  hour,  and  breaking 
off  in  the  midst  of  an  impatient  declaration  that  all 
might  yet  go  well  with  our  big-overgrown  nation  if 
its  governing  bodies,  in  company  with  the  editors  of 
some  newspapers,  would  consent  to  retire  for  ten  years 
or  so  to  the  Sandwich  Islands,  or  anywhere  out  of 
the  United  States. 


206  GOOD  AMERICANS 

He  found  Sybil  awake  and  up,  in  a  room  full  of 
traces  of  preparation  for  a  journey.  An  open  travel 
ing-trunk  stood  against  the  chimney-place,  its  trays, 
filled  with  vaporous  garments  covered  in  by  tissue- 
paper,  placed  here  and  there,  awaiting  consignment. 
A  little  gray  costume  that  he  recognized  as  one  he 
had  been  with  her  to  the  tailor's  to  pass  upon  was 
spread  upon  a  chair.  Even  the  trim  shoes  and  gaiters 
to  match  it  were  put  out.  What  could  this  portend  ? 

"  My  dear  child,  why  are  you  not  asleep  ?  "  he  said. 

"Peter,  I  did  not  tell  you  before,  because  it  was 
not  worth  while,"  she  said,  with  the  directness  that 
rarely  forsook  her.  "It  would  have  just  produced 
discussions  to  embitter  our  meals— for  you  know  I 
see  you  only  then.  I  am  going  to-morrow  to  stay 
with  Etta  for  a  week  on  her  island.  When  I  come 
back,  things  will  go  better  between  us,  I  hope.  I 
shall  feel  better— stronger  to  bear  trifles.  And  you 
— you  will  not  miss  me." 

She  spoke  so  quietly  that  Peter  was  deceived  into 
believing  her  indifferent.  Wrath  rose  within  him. 
Apart  from  the  lack  of  feeling  involved,  he  had  never 
imagined  a  young  wife  taking  such  a  step  away  from 
her  husband. 

"This  is  some  of  Etta's  teaching.  It  may  do  for 
that  woman  and  her  l  gang/  but  hardly  for  my  wife," 
he  answered  angrily,  using  certain  other  expressions 
Sybil  had  not  before  heard  from  his  lips. 

She  turned  white,  and  trembled,  but  did  not  reply, 
while  he  said  his  say. 

"And  if  I  may  ask  where  you  obtained  the  funds 
for  the  expedition,"  he  remarked  finally,  "  I  should  be 


GOOD  AMERICANS  207 

greatly  obliged  by  an  answer.  It  is  quite  impossible 
that  you  go  at  Mrs.  Stanley's  expense." 

"  That  is  what  I  feel  most  badly  about,"  she  replied. 
"  I  did  a  foolish  thing,  Peter,  but  it  did  not  seem  to 
me  a  wrong  one.  After  my  cousin  St.  Clair  came 
here  one  day  to  insist  upon  giving  me  some  money 
from  my  aunt's  estate,  and  I  refused  it,  I  thought  I 
might  borrow  a  little  from  him  for  this  emergency; 
so  I  went  to  his  rooms,  and  asked  him  for  a  check—" 

She  stopped,  quailing.  Again  that  eye  of  flame, 
that  lowering  brow,  his  face  transformed  into  that  of 
an  unsparing  judge. 

"You— went  alone  to  St.  Clair  Lewiston's  rooms, 
and  asked  him— for— a  check?"  he  repeated,  the 
words  escaping  him  in  gasps  of  scornful  anger. 

"Peter,  it  was  only  a  hundred  dollars.  I  was 
sorry,  the  moment  I  had  done  it ;  but  St.  Clair  is  my 
nearest  relative— I  did  not  think—" 

"That  7s  enough.  I  shall  return  it  to  him  to 
morrow.  But  I  can't  undo  your  going  there— worse 
luck !— any  more  than  I  can  undo  this  wish  of  yours 
to  leave  me." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  give  this  visit  up?"  she 
faltered. 

"  Give  it  up  ?  No  —  never.  I  want  you  to  go.  I 
want  you  to  enjoy  yourself  in  the  usual  fashion  of 
ladies  who  weary  of  their  lords'  exactions.  Under 
stand  that  you  have  my  full  sanction.  Put  any  face 
you  choose  on  it  before  the  world,  and  I  '11  stand  by 
you." 

She  was  bewildered  by  his  sudden  change  into  self- 
control. 


208  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"You  mean— you  mean—" 

"  I  mean  that  if  you  wish  to  go,  I  want  you  to  go. 
That  affair  about  the  check  has  humiliated  me  so  that 
I  have  no  other  feeling  left,  I  think." 

He  stood  moodily  gazing  into  space.  She  faced 
him,  conscience-stricken,  wretched,  longing  to  throw 
herself  upon  his  neck  and  pray  for  pardon,  but  withal 
not  realizing  the  force  of  her  offense. 

One  movement  from  him  toward  her,  one  impulse 
yielded  to  by  her,  might  have  ended  the  sad  matter. 
But  their  eyes  stubbornly  refused  to  meet;  their 
hearts,  resisting,  held  apart,  while  an  iron  barrier 
arose  between  them. 

Presently  Davenant  went  into  his  own  room,  and 
closed  the  door. 

The  next  morning  he  accompanied  his  wife  to  the 
southward-bound  train,  putting  her,  with  the  maid, 
into  good  seats  in  the  drawing-room  car,  and  standing 
beside  them  until  the  signal  to  leave  was  about  to  be 
given.  As  he  kissed  her  good-by,  Sybil  felt  terrified 
by  the  cold  touch  of  his  lips.  It  was  their  first  part 
ing,  and  at  this  moment  she  would  have  given  all  the 
world  not  to  go.  She  wished  to  say  so,  but  his  dark 
face  silenced  her.  When  he  left  the  car,  she  sat  still 
for  an  instant,  then  sprang  to  her  feet  and  ran  swiftly 
toward  the  door  at  the  end.  The  narrow  passageway 
was  blocked  by  some  people  coming  in,  preceded  by 
the  porter  with  their  bags.  These  proving  to  be  jolly 
Mrs.  Arden  and  her  daughters,  Sybil  felt  glad  that 
Peter  had  seen  them  join  her.  But  she  resented  the 
interruption  that  kept  her  from  her  husband.  Get 
ting  at  last  down  upon  the  steps,  she  leaned  out 


GOOD  AMERICANS  209 

eagerly.  If  Peter  had  been  there,  she  would  have 
jumped  off,  fastened  herself  to  his  arm,  and  refused 
to  go  back  into  the  car.  A  passion  of  love  and  long 
ing  for  him  absorbed  her.  Only  to  see  his  dear  face, 
only  to  tell  him  that  she  could  not  live  away  from 
him  !  Straining  her  gaze  over  the  crowd  on  the  plat 
form,  she  caught  sight  at  last  of  Peter,  turning  to 
look  back,  the  length  of  two  cars  away  from  her. 
He  saw  her,  lifted  his  hat.  Sybil,  beside  herself  with 
emotion,  was  about  to  spring  from  the  step  to  run  in 
pursuit  of  him,  when  the  train  moved.  A  last  flying 
figure,  coming  to  board  it,  forced  her  back,  the  porter 
behind  her  aiding  to  draw  her  into  the  doorway.  To 
Sybil's  utter  dismay,  this  last  arrival,  whom  her  hus 
band  must  have  distinctly  seen,  was  the  man  he  hated 
—Lang ! 

DAVENANT  stood  staring  after  the  train  till  it  had 
passed  out  of  the  long  tunnel  of  the  station  and 
become  a  speck  in  the  distance.  He  then  fell  into 
line  with  the  crowd  incessantly  surging  over  the 
gang-planks  of  ferry-boats,  and  crossed  the  river, 
returning  to  his  office.  Late  in  the  evening  he 
reached  home,  after  stopping  for  a  Bohemian  dinner 
in  a  restaurant  rather  than  at  his  club,  where  people 
might  speak  to  him  of  her.  The  little  house,  which, 
in  spite  of  its  incompleteness  as  a  home,  was  yet 
eloquent  of  her,  was  like  a  face  with  eyes  shut.  All 
up-stairs  was  silent  and  dreary.  Down  below,  where 
they  were  yet  unaware  of  the  master's  return,  the 
servants  were  celebrating  their  free  evening  with 

hilarity.     Upon  a  card-receiver  on  the  hall  table  he 
u 


210  GOOD  AMERICANS 

saw  the  yellow  envelop  of  a  telegram.  It  was  un 
signed,  but  the  contents  left  him  no  room  to  doubt 
the  sender. 

What  you  saw  last  took  me  by  surprise  as  much  as  you.  If 
you  say,  come,  will  return  to-morrow. 

"I  shall  not  say  come,"  he  muttered  between 
clenched  teeth.  "She  must  come,  as  she  chose  to 
leave  me,  of  her  own  accord." 

He  went  up  to  his  study,  a  place  where  his  books, 
as  usual,  overflowed,  and  where  Sybil  had  insisted 
upon  making  things  "look  as  they  used  to  do  in  the 
happy  days  when  Peter  was  a  bachelor."  Up  on  the 
top  of  a  bookcase  stood  the  cast  of  Nike  Dipteros 
he  had  purchased  the  spring  before  because  it  re 
minded  him  of  her.  The  inspiration  of  the  noble 
form,  with  its  fluttering,  wind-filled  drapery,  and 
glorious  wings  outspread,  appealed  to  him  with  its 
eternal  message  to  rejoice  in  victory  achieved— then 
sent  him  into  lower  depths  of  gloom !  What  had 
been  his  victory  ? 

He  looked  into  Sybil's  chamber,  turning  from  the 
threshold,  aghast  at  its  emptiness.  A  pair  of  em 
broidered  slippers  he  had  bought  for  her  in  the 
bazaar  at  Smyrna  remained  upon  the  fluffy  mat 
before  her  dressing-table.  Vividly  he  recalled  that 
bright  day's  ramble,  in  the  little  Turkish  town,  of 
two  happy,  enamoured  people,  laughing  at  everything 
for  very  joy  of  existence.  A  strip  of  rare  old  Rhodian 
embroidery  across  her  table  brought  back  Athens, 
and  the  dusky  shop  crammed  with  curios  where  they 
had  chaffered,  Sybil  carrying  off  this  bit  hugged  to 


GOOD  AMERICANS  211 

her  breast  in  the  rapture  of  possession.  His  own 
portrait,  in  a  triptych  of  enamel  purchased  in  Naples 
as  they  were  sailing  for  America,  looked  at  him  from 
the  mantel.  This  Peter  closed  with  a  snap,  covering 
his  handsome  features  out  of  sight.  He  could  not 
endure  their  joyous  look,  for  the  picture  had  been 
taken  to  please  her,  in  Paris,  upon  their  arrival  out. 

Poor  Davenant,  deciding  he  could  stand  no  more 
of  it,  hurried  down-stairs.  In  the  act  of  issuing  from 
his  door  he  was  intercepted  by  Katrina  Grantham 
and  Agatha  Carnifex,  accompanied  by  Jim  Grant- 
ham,  the  lively  lad  who  had  steered  Peter's  canoe 
straight  into  the  jaws  of  danger  on  Lake  Pocasset. 

"Consider  us  country  cousins,"  said  Mrs.  Grant- 
ham,  "come  with  our  knitting  to  sit  awhile  with 
Sybil,  if  she  will  have  us." 

"Pray  come  into  the  drawing-room,"  answered 
Davenant,  who  still  retained  some  of  his  Southern 
spirit  of  formal  hospitality.  "I  am  only  too  sorry 
that  Sybil  left  town  this  morning— for— er— a  brief 
jaunt  to  the  South.  She  had  an  opportunity— Mrs. 
Arden  and  her  daughters— a  change  of  air  necessary 
—my  wife  has  not  been  quite  herself." 

He  spoke  bravely,  but  could  not  hide  his  wound 
from  Agatha.  At  once  his  friend  divined  what  had 
happened,  or  at  least  saw  that  a  painful  crisis  had 
been  reached  in  the  affairs  of  the  couple  about  whom 
she  had  been  thinking  continuously  since  his  visit  to 
her  the  night  before. 

"You  are  going  out?  We  will  not  detain  you, 
then,"  said  Mrs.  Grantham,  blankly.  She  was  really 
distressed.  Although  knowing  far  less  of  the  real 


212  GOOD  AMEEICANS 

state  of  affairs  than  Agatha,  she  was  too  clever  a 
woman  not  to  see  that  something  had  gone  seriously 
wrong  between  her  proteges.  But  upon  Davenant's 
urging  them  to  remain  awhile,  the  party  sat  talking 
—Jim,  driven  to  looking  at  photographs,  wishing 
himself  back  in  the  canoe  on  Lake  Pocasset. 

Peter  knew  this  visit  was  prompted  by  Agatha's 
kind  feeling.  He  wished  heartily  that  it  had  occurred 
the  night  previous.  The  still  house  as  he  had  just 
found  it  made  him  realize  what  Sybil's  vigils  must 
have  been  while  he  had  been  away  toiling  up  For 
tune's  ladder  for  her  sake.  When,  for  a  moment,  he 
took  Jim  up-stairs  to  present  him  with  an  Oriental 
dagger  brought  home  from  their  travels,  Katrina 
looked  at  Agatha,  and  whispered : 

"  My  dear,  this  is  gruesome !  Davenant's  eyes 
reveal  everything.  How  could  she  have  gone  off 
there  with  Etta's  fine  party,  and  left  him  in  this  dis 
mal  house,  all  stuffed  with  other  people's  dingy  fur 
niture—just  on  the  eve  of  his  ordeal,  too  ?  The  way 
he  has  worked  his  affair  up  is  a  marvel.  My  hus 
band  says  it  is  a  real  triumph  of  a  sane  man  over  a 
bridegroom.  And  to-morrow 's  Davenant's  great  day 
in  court.  If  he  wins  this  suit  it  will  mean  everything 
to  him— everything !  I  don't  believe  Sybil  knew  how 
much  is  involved ;  but  why  she  did  n't  know  is  some 
thing  I  cannot  understand." 

Agatha  was  spared  answering  by  Jim  Grantham's 
voice,  over  the  stairs,  calling : 

"  Mother,  come  up  here  a  minute.  I  want  to  show 
you  some  bully  Turkish  knives." 

Katrina  obeyed,  smiling.     As  she  lingered  with  her 


GOOD  AMERICANS  213 

lad,  looking  over  Davenant's  little  collection  of  arms 
upon  the  wall  of  his  study,  the  host  came  again 
down-stairs. 

"You  have  guessed,  I  see,"  he  said  in  a  rapid, 
agitated  voice.  "  To  no  other  person  could  I  betray 
myself.  A  blow  like  this  numbs.  I  can't  say  I  'm 
suffering.  I  'm  stunned." 

The  soothing,  protecting  impulse  ever  uppermost 
in  Miss  Carnifex  toward  afflicted  humanity  stood  her 
in  good  stead  now.  With  her  own  heart  racked  by 
his  sorrow,  yet  warmed  by  ardent  sympathy,  she 
spoke  cheerfully: 

"I  can't  advise  you  not  to  mind  it,  for  I  know 
you.  But  I  do  honestly  believe  you  magnify  things. 
Her  going  was  a  mistake,  a  misfortune,  no  matter 
what  led  to  it.  Don't  justify  yourself  or  her  to  me. 
I  think  only  kind  things  of  both  of  you;  and  I 
am  sure  this  will  come  out  right." 

"  It  is  a  horror  for  a  man  to  doubt  so  soon  that  his 
wife's  love  will  stand  the  strain  marriage  must  put  on 
it ;  to  have  seen  it  give  way  in  the  first  test  j  to  know 
that  the  influence  of  others— triflers— is  so  much 
stronger  than  his— 

"  Hush,  hush !  "  said  his  friend.  "  Leave  others  out 
of  the  question.  Let  your  universe  be  filled  with  you 
and  one  other." 

"Ah,  but  you  have  not  loved  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

Agatha  did  not  stir  or  speak.  Gradually  the  influ 
ence  of  her  calm  extended  to  him. 

"  I  begin  to  feel  hypnotized,"  he  said  with  a  half- 
smile.  "  You  are  controlling  me  somehow." 

"Then  obey  the  medium's  behest,"  she  answered. 


214  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"In  whatever  way  you  do  it,  communicate  at  once 
with  Sybil.  Let  her  feel  your  forgiveness." 

Jim  Grantham,  arriving  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
by  the  simple  process  of  sliding  down  the  banisters, 
here  appeared,  followed  more  leisurely  by  his  mama. 
Katrina,  declaring  they  must  no  longer  keep  Mr. 
Davenant  from  his  affairs,  wished  him  good  night, 
adding  her  kindest  hopes  for  his  success  in  the  court 
room  on  the  morrow. 

"  And  yours,  too  ?  May  I  think  of  you  as  wishing 
me  to  trounce  my  adversaries?"  asked  Davenant, 
clasping  Agatha's  hand  as  she  was  about  to  leave. 

"Oh,  I  am  always  to  be  counted  upon,"  she  said 
lightly;  but  in  the  dim  light  of  the  hall  he  saw  in 
her  deep  and  steadfast  eyes  a  vision  of  what  might 
have  been  had  not  the  "ministers  that  feed  Love's 
mighty  flame  n  led  his  feet  into  another  path. 

Under  the  weight  of  thoughts  and  feelings  which 
this  day  and  evening  had  laid  upon  him,  Peter  went 
out  and  walked  for  a  while  in  the  starlight,  pondering 
upon  past  and  future.  Then,  returning  to  his  study 
cheered  and  strengthened,  he  sat  down  to  his  table, 
and  poured  into  a  letter  to  Sybil  the  full  tide  of  his 
love  for  her,  that,  whether  for  good  or  ill,  would 
always  be  the  supreme  passion  of  his  life.  Sealing 
and  stamping  this  important  missive,  he  went  out 
again  to  a  post-box  at  the  corner,  and  deposited  it, 
feeling  a  sense  of  exquisite  relief. 

THE  next  day  Davenant  appeared  in  court  in  the 
plenitude  of  his  remarkable  powers.  His  brilliant, 
almost  audacious,  management  of  his  case  was  a 


GOOD  AMERICANS  215 

matter  of  universal  comment.  Among  the  jaded  souls 
who  wait,  generally  in  vain,  upon  forensic  eloquence 
in  modern  court-rooms,  there  was  only  one  opinion  as 
to  his  surety  of  success.  He  went  out  of  the  scene  of 
his  triumph  walking  upon  air.  This  triumph,  like  all 
he  owned  besides,  should  go  to  her — to  her. 

He  reached  home  later  than  usual  in  the  evening, 
expecting  to  dress  and  dine  with  a  friend.  He  did 
not  know  that  during  the  last  two  or  three  hours 
messengers  with  notes  had  been  in  search  of  him 
down-town  and  at  his  various  clubs,  and,  having 
failed  to  find  him,  had  returned  the  notes  to  his  own 
house,  whence  they  had  been  originally  sent  out. 

Davenant's  first  sight  of  his  front  door  revealed  a 
doctor's  brougham,  then  another,  passing  and  repass- 
ing  before  it.  He  wondered  who  was  ill  in  the  next 
house,  then  reflected  that  he  did  not  even  know  who 
lived  in  the  next  house.  When  he  put  his  key  in  the 
latch  and  opened  his  familiar  portal,  his  nostrils  were 
saluted  by  the  strong  smell  of  ether. 

Some  one  came  down  to  meet  him.  It  was  Agatha. 
She  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  drew  him  into  the 
drawing-room,  where  she  had  left  him,  inspired  with 
happiness,  the  night  before. 

"  Sybil  has  been  hurt,"  she  said.  "  She  arrived  in 
Jersey  City  at  four-fifteen,  and,  after  crossing  the 
river,  took  a  hansom,  with  her  maid,  to  come  up-town. 
There  was  a  collision  with  a  loaded  truck.  The  maid 
was  not  injured,  but  Sybil  got  a  blow.  The  maid 
brought  her  directly  here,  and  sent  for  us.  The 
doctors  are  both  with  her  now,  and  the  surgical 
operation  is  over  safely." 


216  GOOD  AMERICANS 

"  Sybil  is  hurt— the  surgical  operation  is  over— the 
doctors  are  with  her  now,"  kept  on  ringing  in  Peter's 
brain.  Agatha  lifted  his  hand  again,  which  she  had 
dropped. 

"  They  cannot  tell  how  it  will  come  out,  but  there 
is  hope,  of  course,'7  she  said  forlornly,  keeping  back 
her  tears.  "Katrina  Grantham  is  with  her.  Do  you 
wish  to  go  up  ? " 

Davenant  looked  at  her  with  haggard  eyes,  then 
bounded  up  the  stairs. 

For  hours  he  watched  by  Sybil's  beautiful,  inani 
mate  form.  Then  the  physicians,  taking  him  in 
charge,  declared  there  was  likely  to  be  no  immediate 
change,  and  urged  him  to  get  food  and  rest.  Food 
he  accepted,  but  of  rest  there  could  be  none  till  he 
was  assured  of  better  things.  In  the  middle  of  the 
night  one  of  the  doctors  came  down  to  tell  him  that 
his  wife  was  holding  her  own,  and  gave  him  stronger 
hope  of  improvement;  then,  struck  by  his  dazed, 
pallid  looks,  advised  him  to  go  outside  and  rid  his 
lungs  of  the  drug-laden  atmosphere  of  the  house. 

"There  can  be  no  reason  to  keep  you  here— no 
reason  why  you  may  not  get  a  breath  of  air,"  he 
added  with  assurance. 

Davenant,  obeying  mechanically,  found  himself 
straying  like  a  lost  dog  into  a  square  not  far  from 
home,  where  he  dropped  upon  a  bench.  A  tramp 
napping  near  him  excited  his  envy.  "  He  has  not 
left  at  home,  in  extremity,  one  dearer  than  are  the 
ruddy  drops  that  visit  his  sad  heart,"  murmured 
Peter.  The  situation  recalled  like  a  flash  the  occa 
sion  of  that  other  nocturnal  adventure  of  his,  in 


GOOD  AMERICANS  217 

Washington  Square,  on  the  night  of  Mrs.  Crawford's 
party,  when  he  had  watched  Sybil  trip  down  her 
aunt's  steps,  and  had  ventured  to  join  her.  The 
thought  of  her  light,  graceful  movements,  now  stilled 
in  suifering,  was  like  a  goad,  driving  him  home 
again.  He  could  not  go  fast  enough.  He  wondered 
why  he  had  consented  to  put  so  many  steps  between 
him  and  his  darling.  By  this  time  she  might  be 
worse ! 

In  a  cold  sweat  of  terror,  he  began  to  run.  A  police 
man,  making  after  him,  seized  him  by  the  arm.  When 
he  saw  Davenant's  face,  the  man  instinctively  recog 
nized  that  it  was  grief,  not  evil,  that  inspired  the 
fugitive. 

"  My  wife  is  very  ill,"  said  Davenant,  babbling  like 
a  child.  "  I  am  going  home  to  look  after  her." 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  officer,  touching  his 
hat.  "  I  hope  you  '11  find  your  lady  better  when  you 
get  there." 

Davenant  resumed  his  mad  career.  At  the  corner, 
whence  he  could  see  his  own  house,  he  noticed  that 
the  lights  in  Sybil's  room,  hitherto  bright,  had  been 
darkened. 

"Has  it  come,  then?"  he  groaned,  trying  to  nerve 
himself. 

At  the  turning  of  the  lock,  Agatha  was  again  before 
him ;  but  for  blind  grief  he  could  not  see  her  face. 

"Hush,"  she  said  tenderly.  "Sybil  has  gone  to 
sleep.  She  aroused  once,  asked  for  you,  and  is  doing 
well.  One  of  the  doctors  has  gone  home ;  the  other 
is  watching  by  her." 

Davenant,  treading  noiselessly,  went  up-stairs  to 


218  GOOD  AMERICANS 

the  open  door  of  his  wife's  bedroom.  As  he  did  so, 
the  doctor,  who  was  lying  back  dozing  in  the  arm 
chair  of  the  little  study  at  the  rear,  started  awake, 
got  upon  his  feet,  and  coming  toward  him,  wrung  his 
hand. 

"Your  wife  will  live,  Mr.  Da,venant,"  he  said  with 
manly  sympathy. 

"  Will  live  !  "  Ah,  blessed  words !  Who  that  ever 
heard  them  will  not  recognize  the  hand  stretched  out 
to  rescue  a  shuddering  wretch  on  the  verge  of  falling 
into  a  gulf?  Peter  for  the  first  time  felt  the  tears 
rain  down  his  cheeks.  Passing  in  to  where  she  lay 
sweetly  slumbering,  Katrina,  the  nurse,  and  Sybil's 
maid  all  withdrew  to  give  place  to  him.  When  alone 
with  his  beloved,  he  threw  himself  upon  his  knees 
beside  the  bed,  and  prayed.  De  profundis  he  arose 
upon  wings  of  victory. 

KATRINA  GRANTHAM,  who  had  known  many  disap 
pointments  in  her  attempts  to  turn  the  course  of 
other  people's  true  love  into  a  channel  opened  for  it 
by  herself,  was  destined,  during  the  ensuing  year,  to 
encounter  a  supreme  surprise.  Just  when  Katrina 
had  picked  out  for  Agatha  Carnifex  a  new  and  ap 
propriate  suitor— could  he  only  be  made  to  see  it— in 
the  person  of  a  distinguished  bachelor  of  highest  rank 
in  the  legal  world,  and  of  ample  means,  Agatha 
announced  her  engagement  with  Hamilton  Ainslie. 
Ainslie,  who  had  laboriously  acquired  a  zest  for 
American  business  life,  and  even  a  faint  Yankee 
accent  (dropped  when  he  forgot  about  it),  was  now 
vaguely  spoken  of  as  "  in  coffee,"  and  doing  extremely 


GOOD  AMERICANS  219 

well.  He  certainly  had  every  reason  to  consider  him 
self  in  luck  as  well  as  coffee,  thought  his  friends ;  and 
of  these  none  were  warmer  in  congratulation  of  the 
affianced  pair  than  Sybil  and  Peter  Davenant. 

The  latter  couple,  now  established  in  the  former 
dwelling  of  Sybil's  aunt,  were  enabled  to  encounter 
their  increased  expenses  in  that  comfortable  establish 
ment  by  the  help  of  the  money  coming  to  Sybil,  with 
the  house,  by  the  death  at  Schwalbach,  "  suddenly," 
of  Mr.  St.  Clair  Lewiston.  With  all  Peter's  high- 
minded  renunciation  of  a  share  of  Mrs.  Lewiston's 
fortune  in  her  son's  lifetime,  he  had  no  valid  excuse 
for  refusing  it  under  the  present  circumstances. 

Mrs.  Grantham,  at  last  accounts,  was  bemoaning 
her  sad  lot  because  an  excellent  young  man  had  pre 
sented  himself  for  Katty— Katty  having  coincidentally 
announced  herself  in  favor  of  the  excellent  young 
man.  But  as  that  mother,  like  many  another  in 
similar  case,  would  have  been  more  unhappy  had 
there  been  no  husband  in  store  for  her  charming  and 
winsome  daughter,  Mowbray  Grantham  reserved  his 
decision  when  called  on  for  sympathy  in  her  woes. 
And  then,  also,  he  bethought  him  that,  Katty  being 
married,  he  might  hope  for  a  reasonable  share  of  his 
wife's  company  once  more. 

Mrs.  Stanley  shut  up  her  various  houses  in  America, 
and,  with  Jack  and  others,  went  to  Europe  for  a  year 
of  "rest."  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Willoughby,  finding  it  im 
possible  to  support  the  cares  of  existence  in  their  new 
house,  sold  it,  with  furniture,  rugs,  curtains,  objects 
of  art,  and  all  pictures  excepting  the  portrait  of  Mrs. 
Willoughby  by  Carolus.  (That  was  boxed.)  The 


220  GOOD  AMERICANS 

Willoughbys  had,  in  fact,  become  convinced  that  the 
only  way  for  good  Americans  to  live  is  in  knocking 
around  Europe.  They  kept  the  Almee— sending  her 
from  port  to  port  of  desirable  resorts,  and  meeting 
her  by  rail.  Mrs.  Willoughby's  parties  of  pleasure  in 
smooth  waters,  upon  her  "princely  yacht,"  became 
matters  of  international  importance,  Mrs.  Stanley 
quite  meekly  attending  one  of  them  at  Nice,  and 
being  glad  to  get  a  card  for  it.  After  the  Stanleys' 
own  yacht  arrived  out,  there  was  a  lively  competition 
between  the  two  American  queens  as  to  who  should 
excel  in  extending  hospitalities  by  which  people  of  some 
of  the  greatest  names  in  aristocratic  England  profited. 

The  mischievous  Miss  Hilton  had  nervous  prostra 
tion  for  a  while,  then  married  a  mercantile  gentleman 
residing  in  Shanghai,  who  admires  literary  taste  in 
women,  and  gives  her  a  very  good  establishment  on 
the  Bubbling  Well  Road. 

Sybil  saw  Ian  Cameron  when  that  noble  Scot 
brought  his  wife  out  for  a  bridal  journey  to  the 
States;  and  Cameron  found  his  old  sweetheart  not 
only  lovelier  than  ever,  but  a  more  contented  daughter 
of  the  Great  Republic  than  most  of  the  women  he  saw 
about  her.  Mr.  Mortimer  has  been  too  busy,  since 
Sybil  failed  him,  to  know  whether  he  minded  it  or 
not.  And  lastly,  Lang,  the  brief  disturbing  element 
of  Davenant's  life,  married  a  wealthy  widow  from 
the  mining  districts  of  Pennsylvania,  whom  he  met 
on  an  Atlantic  liner,  crossing.  They  live  in  one  of 
the  new  Avenues  in  Paris,  and  the  tendency  of  his 
lady's  too  well-grown  son  to  call  Lang  "popper,"  in 
public,  occasions  his  chief  annoyance. 


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